


Smoke and Retribution

by bilsunderooks



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Mystery, Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-09-13 23:22:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 60,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9146557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bilsunderooks/pseuds/bilsunderooks
Summary: When a blacksmith’s daughter goes missing Vex and Trinket traverse through the Ivyheart Thicket to find her, and encounter something much more sinister lurking in the shadows.





	1. Prologue: The IvyHeart Thicket

**Author's Note:**

> Otherwise summarised: The twins discover love; Trinket gets fish and sore paws from all the running; Percy doesn't think he's a werewolf… exactly; Gilmore is happy to make tea while shit goes down; and Vex really needs to stop adopting every sad-eyed beast she comes across. 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing dnd group for the support and encouragement, and to Megan who has been reading this behemoth over in its various stages. They have been such an inspiration ever since I met them, and my first go at NaNoWriMo was so much more fun for it. 
> 
> Title from Flume's 'Smoke and Retribution'. Feedback appreciated, and hope everyone enjoys this!

The Ivyheart Thicket was dense with morning fog and the sensation that something cruel had invaded the bark, its very roots; a baleful curl through the air that rattled leaves.

Despite the warnings, Vex’ahlia marched on through the forest, past the opening, and carved her way down the sparsely trodden path. Her shoulders were drawn back, chin haughty, feather’s extra shiny in her hair. Trinket plodded ever faithful a few steps behind.

It’s not that she didn’t believe there was a violent creature roaming this forest; she did. Forests were living entities that inhabited the very best and the very worst of nature, otherworldly portals into unknown frontiers. It's just, she had never wanted to believe in ghost stories.

As a child she scoffed at the ominous and atmospheric tales her mother and brother loved to tell, the three of them pressed close under a makeshift blanket fort that had been draped over their bed and mother’s antique vanity.

She remembered the roses and dahlias lining the wooden drawers in spirals. Her fingers clutched the dull bronze handles as Mother’s husky voice tentatively outlined: a princess trapping wolves and men with her sneaky wiles and sharp claws; a many-faced-man leading a group of friends to their watery doom; a faceless monster hiding in a cave because it had nowhere else to go after slaughtering a village. Vax, meanwhile, stealthily snuck his cold hands up her shirt to trail along her spine, whistled at the long pauses and went theatrically white at the right moments.

If she experienced a bone deep shudder just then, years later, it was only from the insidious chill in the dewy air.

They had reached the darker part of the forest, where the twigs and leaves became fallen branches and crumbled bark, wild garlic growing in thick abundance and swallowing any signs of bluebells. They looked eerie stretched out as they were through the forest - like a fall of silver silk, cascading in waves where the land sloped down and disappeared; a delicate shimmer smothered by the fog’s thick body.

The icy air was a tight knot on her tongue.

As if sensing where her thoughts had tread, Trinket tried to rub his snout into Vex’s stomach, gently pushing her with the force of it, his rumbles rough and appreciative. His fur was thick and radiated heat.

“Thanks, buddy,” she said and stroked his ears, adoring. “Think you can hang on for a while longer?”

He snorted a yes, begrudging.

“It’ll be fine. All we have to do is find the poor girl, take a quick look around the creepy forest, then go home. Fairly standard and, if you’re lucky, there might be some salmon in it for you.” His ears gave an excited twitch and his tongue poked out to give a wet kiss on the palm of her hand.

She took the fabric scrap, a deep royal purple with inlaid silver and green cross stitch, from her bag and presented it under his nose, her other hand continuing its well known path behind his ears.

“Nose clear?” She said, checking to see if his eyes were no longer red and that his nostrils weren’t twitching as madly as they had done the other day, when Trinket’s biannual cold had made him sneeze so hard giant snot globules had spattered the ground and his whole body had quaked. Mother’s second best rug had to be thrown out and a day later Vax put his foot down and banished them from the house until Trinket’s cold had cleared.

Trinket nodded, a sharp motion with little hint of the lethargy that had dogged his limbs the past week.

“Good boy. Now sniff this.”

They stayed for a couple of days in a tavern the next town over from the skeletal husk of Byroden. Despite the rather sour faced owner’s tight lip at seeing Trinket’s groaning, slumped figure on the tavern floor they received a friendly enough welcome. Vex had felt confident enough to finish a day’s hunt with a couple of drinks while playing and winning poker against the locals.

Her third night found her slounged on her stool with ale in one hand and Trinket gnawing a fish bone at her feet. The tavern owner’s daughter, Charlotte, and her friends laughed and gossiped on either side of Vex, and she missed Vax’s company like crazy. It was there that she first heard about the blacksmith’s missing daughter.

She remembered how Charlotte had perked up when a haggard man had stepped into the bar, brushing water from his shoulders and thick hair, dark line of stubble framing a sad mouth. She’d smoothed her hair down and called him over, and when he did he had been subject to the flurry of well-wishers, simpering women and the steadying if tentative hand of Charlotte.

“Has there been any word, Arthur?” Charlotte had said. She was twenty-two to his thirty-five but in the last couple of days Vex recognised something of her mother in Charlotte; the warm compassion, the old soul swirling in the creases of her eyes, and the strong jaw of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from the world.

“Nothing. We just disbanded another search party. I wanted to keep looking but Keeper Aldis took it upon himself to threaten me with a night behind prison bars.” His smirk was both quirky and half-hearted. He sighed and shifted his feet away from the table. “It’s good to see you again, and I’ll stop by your house with your father’s axe next week. But I’m only here to get some food from your mother. God knows I can’t get enough of her stew.”  
  
“Yes, of course,” Charlotte flushed before rocketing out of her seat, the legs scraping the stone. “I’ll fetch her now.”

He thanked her lowly and moved to the bar counter, resting his forearms on the warm cherry wood and sinking his head into his hands, looking far older than his years.

“Poor man. Wife passed away two years ago, father died a year later, and then his daughter Iris goes missing in the forest. It’s a cruel world that dogs his steps,” Charlotte’s friend said, and the table murmured in agreement before settling into a respectful silence.

Vex had sat quietly, fingers carding through the fur through Trinket’s ear, and thought about the hunter’s knife she could still feel on her neck years later, clumsy hands on breech laces, and a tiny bear cub tied up on a tree, wailing for its mother.

“Do you happen to have anything of hers?” She’d asked just as the man collected his food (a hastily cobbled chicken and potato stew that still had steam curling into the air) from Charlotte, thanked her again, and made to depart the table.

Now, Trinket paid close attention to the scrap, nostrils flared. They exchanged a glance and Trinket loped off, following the unseen path to their quarry, paws sinking in moss and wild garlic leaves. They were both careful to not step on any twigs, and Vex tried to keep a lookout for unwanted predators and previous search parties’ tracks to discern if any resembled a young girl’s.

The whole time she carried the burden of watchful eyes clawing at the back of her neck.

It stayed like that for another half hour until, deep in the Thicket where even sunlight couldn’t strain through, a loud snarl broke the silence and reverberated through the air.

She and Trinket froze.

“Shit,” she breathed as a thick smell of burnt wood and sulphur cut through the wild garlic before disappearing as quickly as it had arrived. She ducked behind a tree and motioned for Trinket to do the same. The bear hunkered down behind a fallen log, brought his paws over the top of his head and flattened his ears, compressed motions fully developed and would have made Vax proud to see.

They waited for thirty seconds. A minute.

Two.

Silence. Not even birds made themselves known.

Vex plucked herself from the bark, whispering, “It’s alright, Trinket.” But she tugged her bow free from her shoulder and notched an arrow.

They resumed their pace with a lot more caution, though little else happened for twenty minutes.

Even though it was fully morning, the fog had descended to lie as a thick clump along the ground and the forest had become murkier and leached of colour. Soon the tracks were consumed. Wild garlic grew sparsely and only the tree roots emerged from the fog.

There was something strange about them. They resembled humanoid figures, with blackened heads and warped facial features. Long limbs seemed to bubble with bark and twisted knots, in various poses, seemingly gushing from the curves and lines of the roots. They were frozen in a parodic wading through the fog, like actors at the theatre preparing to spring into action, the fog trailing around and below them.

Moss that had been blacked with rot was crawling up the bark, and through the canopy overhead the sky was icy blue.

Vex breathed out, and the watching sensation itched between her shoulder blades.

Trinket’s hackles raised and he growled, vibrating with menace and suspicion.

“I’m really starting to get a bad feeling about this,” she said, resisting the urge to call out the girl’s name, or hum her mother’s favourite lullaby.

There was a sharp crack and Trinket snarled a warning before something huge thundered through the trees to her right.

Vex sprang into action. She rolled, somehow managing to keep her grip on both bow and arrow, instincts humming to life under her skin. It was just in time too, for something heavy landed on the ground behind her and barely caught her arm. There was a vicious growl and a snap of teeth, hot air rushing past her. She straightened and ran without a second glance, leapt over roots and fallen trunks as she called out for Trinket to follow. She was relieved when his familiar gait pounded behind her.

She reached fifty feet before the creature outstripped them and she stuttered to a halt, drew her bowstring hand to her chin, and lowered her stance as Trinket jolted to a halt in front of her and bristled, his growls rising to a fevered pitch.

When she focused on the beast her heart stopped.

Before her and Trinket stood a massive, monstrous form that was shaped not unlike a dog. It had broad shoulders packed with muscle that seemed to fill the space with power and malice, rippling with strength as it crouched on its four legs. Digging harshly into the ground were enormous claws that could split her open with one swipe. Its fur was dark brown except for a cascade of white running from the crown of its head and down its back, tapered into a short tail. Its snout was hooked and bird like, the fur also white, only its slick shine resembled bone, like a horrific mask had been pulled over its face. Its teeth were large and jagged. Its mouth parted in a ghastly, voiceless howl, and seemed blacked with, oh god, smoke that was billowing out of its mouth like a poisonous cloud.

In fact, what was more nightmarish than the beast’s size was how smoke was pouring out of its joints and the arrow of white fur, seeping from its very pores as if it were about to burst into wildfire at any moment.

Somewhere in her soul, despite the terror that had invaded her mind and claimed captive over her lungs, she felt immense sorrow for the lost girl she had probably failed to save from this beast’s maw.

Anger was sharp and precise; it cut through the fear until all she had was focus and determination humming in her blood like a violent song.

The mud squelched under her knee as she ducked down and aimed.

And then she heard the distant thin wail of a child.

The beast’s head snapped towards the noise just as Vex let out a yell and fired. It howled in pain as the arrow grazed what Vex thought would be its shoulder. But she was too busy running, cutting wind like a trembling knife, to chance a look back. Her hope that she had distracted the beast enough was emboldened when Trinket let out a roar and there was a whistle of claws in the air, followed by another shriek of pain.

She pushed harder, feet thudding on the ground and twigs snapped like explosives. Her chest started to ache as she reached a group of trees, and there - on a trunk partially hidden by two other trees - a sliver of light winked through the fog, which had grown thicker in the clearing; pouring out from nowhere and around the trunks like white wine.

The child's cries rang louder than before.

“Iris!” She called out, still running, “Just hold on!”

There was a sharp click, a sudden hiss, and something slammed so hard into her that, winded, Vex found herself tumbling through leaves and fog. She skidded to a stop between two roots thick with the absurdist humanoid figures, and gained a number of small cuts, bruises and no doubt grass stains on her clothes.

Groaning, she lifted herself onto an elbow and her knees. She fumbled for her bow that had been flung over some roots, before she turning to press her back against the trunk and take aim once again.

And stared with her mouth gaping open, heartbeat crashing through her ears.

Thick chains had emerged from the canopy and, as if fired, had struck deep into the ground and stretched taut. She could see at the end of the chain the edges of sharp spikes protruding as wicked silhouettes. Some more chains had gone horizontal and diagonal through the air, embedded in trunk and root alike, and all were positioned to create the impression of a cage. In the centre of it lay the smoke beast.

It thrashed wildly around, shoulders trembling with effort as its legs snapped out; teeth biting at and flinching away from the chains as if they burned. Two spikes had stuck fast into the meat of its front leg and hindquarters, while more chains threatened to choke its neck. Another three had its stomach in a vice. Snarls of anger and simmering hatred rumbled through the trees and disturbed the last of the wildlife. The smoke seemed to double in volume and rose to enshroud the beast's body until it tucked the gleaming chains away into the billowy folds.

Tilting her head to check that the beast was truly caught, she still managed despite the smoke to spot the massive bear trap that had enclosed its metal teeth around the beast's hind leg.

Her first thought was that poachers had reached the forest and will soon come to claim its prize.

Her second was that this apparatus belonged to the slayers take, since something so intricate usually was by the hand of one of Vasselheim’s forge workers. Therefore this beast had been on the poachers radar long before Vex had accidentally stumbled upon it. If that was the case Vex felt simultaneously relieved and irritated, comfortable enough to relax her shoulders but not to release her hold.

Her third was based on the realisation that the beast’s growls sounded more like wounded sobbing rather than defiant rage. It jerked its head in desperation, and the chains tightened on its flesh to the point where smokey blood started to pool along its shoulder and down its front legs. Fat droplets spattered the ground and dissipated as steam.

As she glanced up again she caught its gaze for the first time since she encountered it.

Its eyes were startlingly human. Blue, and scared; hopeless in the way people and animals are when they're resigned to pain.

And Vex (something deep inside her responding to the scared beast in a manner similar to how she rescued a small bear club) knew she was ensnared. In the way people are when their own resignation is a key component to a particular cocktail that influenced hopeless causes.

What seemed like hours must in reality have been seconds, for Trinket came thundering into view just that moment and skidded to a stop in the small enclave; teeth bared and haunches raised as he bodily situated himself in front of Vex and dug his claws threateningly into the earth.

He had really perfected his aggressive roar and Vex was forced to push aside the bubbling pride filling her heart to refocus herself. 

“Easy, Trinket,” she said, lifting herself gingerly into a crouch. Her bow was still in hand while the other arm pressed into sore ribs that were bound to be bruised. She couldn't wait to see Vax’s expression when she told him about this. “Good boy.”

Trinket snorted, glaring down at the still struggling beast.

She stood, felt her heart calm to a reassuring thud, and some detached part of her marvelled at how relatively unscathed she was, considering. She ignored how her hands shook and how she gazed at anything other than the beast's oddly human eyes again.

“Iris?” Trinket shook his head.

“Ok then. Stay here and keep an eye on it,” she said before moving on shaky knees to where she thought she saw the light. Her ankle twitched, a static burst of pain. She noted that the beast had snapped its head towards her as she spoke, and was watching with narrowed eyes when she walked away.

Trinket betrayed his reluctance with a tail twitch and a grunt, but he'd never ignored her commands before.

Five minutes scanning later and she concluded that whatever there was left of the light was gone, and she realised that the child’s voice had disappeared too. Her fear was momentary, a lightening bolt through her spine, but she wrangled rationality to her side. The beast hadn't reached the girl. How could it when it had been so focused on her and ended up trapped for its troubles.

She wondered if there had been many children that had gotten lost in these woods.

If Iris hadn't been the first, and if a beast that size would seriously be satisfied with a single child for a meal. She hadn’t heard of many wanderers from the area mysteriously vanishing though. As she trudged further, she meditated on what was it about children that had piqued her monster’s interest. How many were there before Iris, with parents unable to raise the alarm for whatever reason?

Hopefully it didn't have a mate, or a pack with a taste for young flesh, waiting to pounce amongst the shadows.

Not that she could tell; the fog had risen to chest level and she had difficulty peering through more than thirty metres.

The sooner she and Trinket found the girl the better she thought. 

Just then she spotted a flash of dark brown hair as something small ducked behind the tree. Shoulders tight and calves clenched, she inched around it.

Nestled between two roots, with her hand on a humanoid figure posed mid scream, the girl had Arthur's nose and straight chin, but her eyes were a touch more wicked as her small face peered up at Vex. Her hair was a mess of leaves and the early beginnings of a bird’s nest, and the edges of her purple dress were ragged, the silver coming undone. She was very pretty, with big brown eyes and an artfully drawn mouth that screamed vulnerability. A smear of dirt chased the curls plastered to her cheek.

“Hello you,” she said, bending down on one knee. She risked submerging her face to the fog to better examine the dress. “It’s ok now. I'm coming to take you home.”

The girl, Iris, cocked her head, lip trembling, and remained soundless.

The hair on Vex’s arms raised.

“It's ok,” she repeated. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Iris shifted, an almost involuntary motion that seemed wooden and disjointed, and opened her doll-like mouth.

Vex lifted her drawstring to her chin and fired her arrow. It flew straight and true through the girl’s mouth and struck the bark, quivering as the girl vanished in a puff of smoke. Vex’s ears popped. Her fingers shook.

She stood, and took a deep breath while glancing critically at her surroundings. The fog was starting to curl away and disappear, and new sunlight was illuminating the trees again. It must be approaching noon.

As she turned to make her way back to Trinket, she stumbled into a tree and gripped a low hanging branch as her ankle throbbed all the way to her knee. She carefully regained her balance and limped through the Thicket, taking more time so she didn't miss any protruding roots or twigs that threatened her staggered gait.

Involuntarily, she thought about how close she came to losing her leg to a pair of metal teeth, and that fate had never been so kind to her and Vax.

She returned to the clearing with a half-thought out decision in place.

* * *

The beast had so far been unsuccessful in its struggle to escape. Its snarls had dwindled to moans and sweat had started to bead in thick clumps on its hide, only seen in areas where the smoke had thinned into erratic tendrils.

The chains gleamed, waiting, and clinked triumphantly in the silence.

Trinket’s inquiring head tilt at her arrival made her snap out, “It was bait. The girl we’ve been chasing was an apparition, a copy.” She stomped up to her bear’s side, sent a glare towards the beast. “It wasn’t bait for us though, it was for you so you’d get trapped here when you got hungry enough. Who's after you, and why are they making girls disappear?”

The beast strained once again, eyes bulging as it let out another moan. She changed tactics, not daring to sling an arm around Trinket so she could take some weight off her injury.

“Where’s the girl? I know you can understand me. Tell me!”

Amazingly the beast shook its head, paws now digging great trenches into the earth and flattening the sparse wild garlic. It tried to back away from her, as if she was the real danger in this forest.

She squared her shoulders and raised her voice, heard it reverberate like a warning.

“All I know is that you can't make that good of a copy with magic unless you've seen her, so where is she? You-” she pulled out another arrow and notched it. “Have five minutes to convince me why I shouldn't shoot you right now. I’ve had a very long morning and I swear to you I'm done playing games.”

It shook its head again, and Vex’s temper started to fray at the edges with the one sided argument, at the whole sodding day.

“You helped me. I don't know why but you saved me from that trap; you can help me again,” she said, conviction shuddering through her as friction against her sore ribs.

“Please,” she began, desperate now. “Her father is worried sick and wants to see his little girl again. Give them a chance to reunite, I beg you.”

The beast remained uncooperative though Vex suspected that it was fast losing conviction in resisting her. Its eyes refused to look at her, and its teeth was bared in a grimace. However, she also suspected that it had more to do with the steady blood loss than her begging which preserved her pride somewhat.

“Please.” Against her better instincts she lowered her bow and took a step forward, a hand out to pacify both Trinket and the beast. “You're injured. You can't be stubborn about this anymore. Just help me find the girl, and I can help you. I can help you get free, you just need to tell me what the hell is going on here.”

She took another step, anticipatory breath caught in her throat.

Slowly, very slowly, the beast relaxed its struggles, but didn’t cease them entirely. It flexed against the chains like one would flinch out a nervous habit. Its gaze met hers and didn't deviate, almost considering.

It opened its great maw, teeth shiny, and in her periphery Trinket tensed.

“P-p-puh. Ple- ssh. Pl-easssh,” it hissed out, throat clicking with effort, tendons bulging.

“Please?” she managed through her shock. She hadn't expected that the beast could _talk._

“Puh-lease!” It roared out, startling her into taking a step back. “H-help. Me!”

And then it started choking, coughing up more smoke just as something large cracked, something that sounded very much like bone.

Vex and Trinket stumbled back. She hissed in pain as her foot took sudden weight, but she was too stunned to pay much attention to it. A series of pops and cracks emanated through the smoke and from the beast, which had sunk low to the ground and had started to howl. It was a wretched noise full of despair, agony and, crushingly, like grief. Its intensity was frightening.

Up came her bow as she backed away and around a tree, hoping it would give her and Trinket, who had followed her, enough shelter from whatever the hell was happening.

The chains must have been enchanted. Had she been able to she would have rushed over to help free the creature. But there was just too much smoke and not enough certainty that she or Trinket would have been safe from the beast’s bulk and claws lashing out at them.

Frustration was an old friend of Vex’s, forever tucked away in her marrow and left to fester.

Over by the makeshift prison, the beast was starting to shrink. Down, down it went; compressed, like it was being packed away. The chain stuck in its hindquarter fell away, the slick spike almost black in colour. Then the other chains started to sway.

More bones and tendons gave sickening pops.

Then, quiet.

The smoke cleared, thick plumes becoming wisps; blown away by unseen winds.

She could only hear Trinket’s heavy breathing, and the sulphurous smell had vanished to leave burnt wood behind.

A cough disturbed the quiet: human, its rich timbre distinctly masculine.

She blinked, exchanged a look with Trinket, and popped her head out from behind the tree.

On the ground lay a man covered in soot and dirt.

She noticed his hands first; smudged black with filthy fingernails and large callouses. They twitched against the dark earth, hungry for the sensation.

He groaned and tried to lift himself onto shaking limbs, face pressed to the dirt and away from her. His hair was, curiously, a large white mop. He wore nothing on his chest, which was caked with filth and charred black along his left pectoral, his good bicep, halfway down his navel. The trousers were plain workman ones, ripped down one side. He was lithe and sparsely muscled. Enough to suggest he had done hefty lifting in his life, yet nothing like the mass of thick tendons and bulky muscle that comprised the beast’s structure.

His head raised and she glimpsed a long nose, dark eyebrows, arched cheekbones, and a perplexed mouth; the face of a noble born. His eyes were a bleary blue. Some of his hair fell onto his forehead and there were more streaks of soot on his skin.

He looked regal. He looked confused. He looked like a man who had no clue what was happening to him, but was too composed to react significantly to it.

The memory of her father swam from the bruised cavity in her lungs reserved for him. The first day she met him and saw a stark silhouette situated against the backdrop of Syngorn’s gates.

Vex stepped out from her hiding place. “Who are you?” she demanded, hand starting to ache from its tight grip on the bow string. “I wasn't kidding before when I said I was running out of patience.”

The man swivelled towards her and blinked hard. A dirty hand rubbed at his nose, the skin under his eye, and smeared more mud over his face.

“You’re not a dream,” he mumbled, voice cracked from disuse.

“No, I'm bloody not. I'm a woman with a weapon and a hungry bear demanding answers.”

Much to her irritation the man eyed her arrow, at Trinket lumbering out from behind their tree, and smirked crookedly.

“Wonderful,” he coughed. Smoke burst out from his mouth and Vex’s legs tensed in response.

He put up a hand, palm forward with the fingers straight but relaxed. Pacifying; a direct copy from her own calming gesture from earlier.

“It's fine, I'm. I'm not going to hurt you anymore. I swear, he's gone. You are in no danger from this curse any longer,” he said, much more articulate even as sweat started to bead along his temple.

She scoffed. “How do I know that? How do I know you're not going to turn back into that thing again?” He winced, but his smirk remained in place, tinged with something like self-deprecating humour.

“Believe me, if I was I would have done it by now. These chains are very well enchanted,” he said, giving said chains a light shake, fingers curled around the links possessively. After a moment he winced and retracted his hand, the skin reddened and peeling. “I expect nothing less from my captors.”

Vex glanced at the red welts appearing along his torso, where metal once burned a claiming hold.

“What if I said I didn't trust you?” She said, relaxing her hold and returning her arrow to its quiver. Her stance shifted so awareness settled along her spine like a well-loved cloak. She never loosened her fingers from the bow.

“I'd say,” he said while watching her, calculated. “It was very sensible of you.”

She bit her lip. As the man turned his attention to his arm he squinted, as if he was having trouble seeing the ruined flesh holding onto the lethal spike. At this angle his gaunt cheekbones jutted out, creating shadowed hollows that were accentuated by dark stubble. His face was a chiaroscuro marvel that resembled the skulls that populated Byroden’s ruined temples, the offerings that served as both protection and warnings.

And yet the lack of lines around his eyes and mouth suggested that, despite the hair, he must be her age if not younger.

What must have happened to him to make such a young man so weary, so defeated?

And why did he seem so resigned when his beast form had been so desperate to break free?

“You know who your trappers are,” she concluded.

He nodded. “I have a fair idea.”

“Care to clue me in?”

“Depends,” he finished, leaving the conversation closed before glancing back at his foot.

“Oh gods, is that a bear trap?” He said, shock finally breaking the careful exterior he had erected.

She frowned. “You don't feel it?”

He slumped down, eyes squeezed shut and his face grew, if possible, whiter. “Not until this moment no,” he said with a whimper attached to his vowels.

“Shit. Must be the shock,” she offered, thoughts rapid fire as she took stock of her supplies and his injuries, berating herself for becoming distracted.

She hummed soothingly at Trinket before inching her way over to the man, drawing bandages from her pack which had mercifully not been lost to the forest.

“Which is rather hilarious considering all that has been done to me,” he acknowledged, starting to pant as she moved closer.

Vex knelt by his side. She took out a bottle of alcohol and wet some fabric that she wouldn't use for bandages. “I'm not a healer,” she admitted. “The best I can do is a patch job.”

“That's fine,” he said, lips slowly paling.

She licked her lips and inspected the trap, while he curled around to better see what she was doing. It was a simple mechanism, designed to hold for a short period of time even with its heavy materials. The latch was easy to figure out.

Vex placed her items down and braced herself, remembering to take off her belt and place it between his teeth.

He accepted it with far more grace than she’d thought he would.

“What’s your name?”

The man stared at her, and she took his distraction as the perfect opportunity to release the trap and cast cure wounds on his leg.

His yell of pain was hidden between clenched teeth and leather.

“P- pahr? Pearsh?” He groaned, smoky tendrils drifting through his teeth and out of his mouth, curling around leather. The blood on his back slowed to a stop as she worked on his leg.

“Pearsh? Pierce? Is that it?” She said, taking pity on him when his face contorted, eyes widening and hands shaking. “That's all I can do I'm afraid. I need some strength to help us back to my place so I can get a real professional to look at you.”

Her hands and shirt sleeves were soaked with blood.

Meanwhile he was shaking his head, sounding somewhat hysterical when he tried speaking again. “Percsh-ey.” He stopped and groaned loudly, hands shooting up and clawing at his hair in a sudden fit of what looked like agony.

She winced in sympathy when his bicep was tugged back by the chain. Sweat was marking paths down his long nose and got into his eyes, which blinked rapidly.

She shuffled around him, winced again and even as she reached to brush three fingers along the spike’s blade, she hesitated.

Her stomach churned with horror and the desire to vomit but so far nothing had clawed its way up her throat. Arthur’s worn face suddenly swirled into focus.

Percy whimpered when she retreated and it was that raw expression of pain that almost made her duck away to expunge her insides.

She anchored herself and breathed as his whimpers reached higher pitches, animalistic. They were incensed in a mindless way that suggested the beast was writhing far too close to the surface.

Trinket snarled, shoulder checking Vex’s shoulder and striking up a protective stance with a leg in front of her. Distracted she rolled her eyes.

“My name’s Vex’ahlia. This overprotective hunk of fur is Trinket,” she said while feeling none of the bravado she hoped she was projecting. Her restless hands found fur and stroked behind his ear, just the way Trinket liked it.

“Pleasure,” Percy gasped. Some measure of his obvious breeding prompted him to collect his composure and nod to both her and, to her surprise, Trinket.

“Are you alright? That looked painful,” she said.

“I've endured worse,” he said. Vex almost snorted.

“You haven't endured my wrath,” she said, playful even as her free hand balled into a fist. “I could free your arm but I need you to agree to something first. Something about finding a lost treasure.”

“I didn't actually ask you to free me from my current predicament,” he said, snarky.

He found himself staring cross-eyed where the tip of her freshly drawn arrow nudged his nose. Even though the gaze was unfocused, as if he needed spectacles, she was gratified to see his throat bob.

He licked his lips. “What, ah, what are your terms?”

“I get you free of these chains if you help me find a girl that went missing in this forest,” she stated quickly. “Her name is Iris. She's seven, brown hair, brown eyes, and her father has been looking for her for nearly a week. Know anything about it?”

Percy’s face went, if possible, paler, the colour leaching from even his collarbones and wrists.

Jackpot, she thought.

When he cleared his throat and answered, she had to resist the urge to toss her bow away and punch him. “I can't do that. What you want me to do, I just can't. Believe me under normal circumstances I would be more than happy too, but you just don't understand the stakes at play here. You're better off killing me and leaving my body behind. Go back home and forget this ever happened.”

“Forget?” She hissed, pressing her arrow tip harder until he was forced to lean away. Far enough that it didn't risk further harming his arm, but enough space to wrinkle his nose in chagrin. “Forget? A girl's life is at stake here.”

“There are many at stake,” he snapped back. “I'm sorry. I understand that the girl is obviously important to you, but there is nothing you can do.”

“What if I said I didn't believe you?” She said, desperation causing a hot itch to creep into her eyes. His gaze remained unrelenting, seeped under her skin and into her bones. She had to hope that he was a good man, that good men could be found even in insidious forests. That good men will always appear even when you least expect it.

He closed his eyes, and one of his eyelids was covered in soot.

“You are right not to trust me,” he said, and she felt it like a knee to her chest.

“Trust isn't the same as believing,” she replied gently, and his eyes snapped open. She arranged her posture so her shoulders puffed up. “What I'm seeing here is a man who knows something about a missing girl. This man happens to be able to turn into a terrifying beast who perhaps eats girls.” He flinched and she pressed her advantage. “And I'm right aren't I? There’s more than one girl going missing and you're either the cause, or the reason. Perhaps it's something to do with your captors. Perhaps you're that kind of murderous bastard that probably does need to be killed. Or, and if my instincts are correct, you're a good man cursed into a situation beyond your control.”

She took a breath, then dropped her arrow until it dragged under the fog. Trinket huffed by her elbow.

“I really want it to be the last one. I'm not usually wrong about people. So tell me. What happened to you? I could help. If this transformation isn't temporary I will work with you to help break whatever curse this is. I might even have connections. In return, I expect your cooperation and information: someone has to stop whatever the hell is happening to this forest. I think you're the one to help me solve this. What do you say, Percy?”

She held out her hand. Staring down at him, she felt new bruises starting to etch into her chest at the vulnerable, hurt expression clouding the lines around his mouth and the curve of his cheek.

“You can't help this,” he said, defeat stamped into his vowels.

“Try me.”

He sucked in a breath. A shaft of sunlight broke through the trees and set his hair aglow, a pale, hovering halo. His good hand reached up to marvel at the new warmth at his temple.

“You really believe?” He said, quietly, and to himself.

“If I am to find Iris, I have to,” she said, determined. The sun had crept into her own hair now; it burned into the fabric stretching over her shoulders and sent dizzying warmth to curl around her neck and up her chin.

Percy watched her closely, as if truly considering her in a new light.

She wiggled her fingers and it caught his attention.

As Vex waited for him to decide she felt unmoored. She didn't know why or what it meant, just that Percy needed to grab her hand and end this sudden stalemate that had sprung up between them. Then, life will carry on just as it always had.

She felt like the world was tumbling on its axis. She felt like time was abstract and waiting to break free of its static prison that seemed to hold both her and Percy on the precipice in the middle of the IvyHeart Thicket.

Or maybe she was just that tired and hadn't noticed until the strange imaginary sensation of rightness had crept into her heart.

Tentatively, with great reservation and something akin to anticipation, Percy grabbed her hand in a courteous shake.

“Well then. You drive a hard bargain, Vex’ahlia,” he said, voice tinged with enough admiration to make her pause, chest burning. “But before you kill me, and really I highly advise that you do it as soon as possible, I’d like for you to listen to my last request before I agree to any of your terms.” He drew another breath like he hadn't dropped a bomb on her, then leaned down and kissed the back of her hand, lips warm and charged on her skin.

“I'm not going to kill you, that's not what I want from this,” she laughed, hysterical with disbelief and uncertainty, still reeling with the concussive force of this man and his clever mouth, at the truth that was spilling from her own lips.

“You will,” he said, certainty making his voice hard.

She didn't know whether to be furious that he thought he could order her around. Nevertheless she was unsettled by how completely he rearranged the control of the conversation, disturbed by the ease with which we wielded his assumed knowledge of her.

“Please, I implore you to listen,” he continued.

His eyes had lines creeping around them. His mouth remained age free, and his chin was a little weak with exhaustion. Consciousness wasn't going to last very long for him.

“Fine,” she dared. “Name it.”

What he said next almost made her wish she had knocked him out after all, right in the smug dimple tattooed into his cheek.

“My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third of Whitestone. And I desperately need your help to reclaim my home, and save my city.”

And then he fell unconscious, an ungainly heap at her feet with a massive spike still stuck into his forearm and blood seeping through her rough bandage.

She stared, helpless, feeling slack-jawed and not for the first time that day.

At that point, Vex’ahlia admitted to herself that she was vastly out of her depth.

* * *

End of Part One.


	2. Part Two: Elaina's Cabin.

The sight of Vax opening the door with his hair mussed beyond the help of a comb, his shirt half undone and teasing the line of his collarbone and the circumference of his heart, momentarily robbed Vex of her frantic mind and urgent if exhausted muscles. She also momentarily forget about the half naked, bleeding man she had slung over Trinket’s back, snoring fitfully.

They stared at each other. Then Vax stared beyond her shoulder to Trinket’s cargo.

“Is this a bad time?” She said with a nervous giggle.

Vax just sighed.

He bustled them into the cosy warmth of their home, and got the whole story in pieces while Shaun Gilmore (looking far more put together than her brother did even if he still had a patchwork blush making its way around his chest and up the back of his neck to curve along the temples) got the houses’ medical supplies out of the top right kitchen cabinet.

Vex was plonked on a chair by the kitchen table, her leg yanked onto a cushion placed on another chair, while Trinket ambled over to the corner under the meat cupboard to settle down with Percy still on his back; still smoking gently, still out cold.

Outside, through the ivy thick kitchen window, the sky was burnt gold.

Gilmore strode over to her, long legs eating up their tiny kitchen and somehow nimbly dancing over Trinket’s tail. His face was kind and good humoured even as he glanced tersely over at Trinket and Percy. He pushed his sleeves over his forearms, revealing intricate tattoos and dazzling bracelets. If he hadn't obviously been running his hands over her brother already, Vex would have seriously considered swooning onto those strong, capable hands and let him scold her for whatever reckless act she did or didn’t do. She deserved it after the day she had.

Because he was her twin and therefore could read her mind better than anyone, Vax pinched her uninjured side and stuck out his tongue, the corners of his eyes a study of smug bashfulness. However it didn't last. His face became more and more drawn as she got a bit carried away with her description of the beast. It slid into degrees of fearful, and finally anger when Vex finished her account.

His hand found hers halfway through and clutched the fingers painfully tight. She feared that she would lose feeling if he didn't let go soon, or that the blisters would rupture.

“So after he passed out,” she said, wincing as Gilmore prodded at her swollen ankle. She already half healed the joint with the last of her potion supply but it became irritated from the trek until she was forced to limp on it while clutching at Trinket’s shoulder. “I freed him, tied his arms and legs up with the chain so he wouldn't turn back into the monster, and Trinket and I managed to get him here. Let me tell you, he's heavier than he looks. Took me ages to get him on Trinket’s back. And Trinket may have bashed Percy’s head against a couple of trees so we should probably check he doesn't have a concussion or anything.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Vax said and Vex threw a spoon at him from the set that had been laid out on the table. Despite its rough woodwork and peeling green paint it was softly illuminated by three candles. A half drunk wine bottle winked at her, and their best wine glasses stolen from some Elvish noble household were laid out, stained red. A single yellow rose sat proud in a blue vase. The faint smell of warm spices suggested that Gilmore’s hands had been capably taking apart her kitchen and Vax hadn’t been allowed near the pepper.

“Don't be so heartless, brother,” she said, crossly. He raised his hands in defence, spoon trapped between thumb and index finger.

“You brought a terrifying murderous monster into our home, forgive me for being a little irritated about it!” He said, exasperated.

“Please. I wouldn't have brought him here if I thought the chains wouldn't work.” She held up her blistered hands pointedly, sore still even after the healing potion, and etched with the chain links. Even half-elves weren’t immune to whatever enchantment that had been embedded into the chain.

They had run out of healing potions weeks ago, and Gilmore hadn't thought to bring anything substantial while he visited Vax. Vax’s lips had tightened at Vex’s refusal to accept the handful of potions when she was first dragged in, but didn't complain when she told Gilmore to save them for Percy.

Her eyes narrowed at the crumpled blue blanket in front of the fireplace in the living room, hidden behind Vax’s body. “Is that mine?”

Vax ignored her. “We can't chance anything with those chains. We don't even know where they came from.” He ran his hands over his face, rubbed at the distress that was building over an eyebrow.

Gilmore, head bent suspiciously low over her injured hands, chose that moment to clear his throat. “Well, I'm certainly impressed with the fact that your monster didn't take any chances.” His eyes glowed purple and he waved his hand. Vex gasped and felt instant relief seep into her gut as some shuddering blackness she couldn't quite explain evaporated. “He hexed you. Most likely to take you down if you tried anything on him,” Gilmore added. He almost sounded off-hand, but there was a static charge jumping between his fingers that made the air crackle with his lavender perfume.

Vax slowly dropped his hand, revealing the fury darkening his mouth and eyes. He sent her a sharp ‘told you’ glance before he lifted a dagger and prowled around the kitchen, keeping a wide berth even as he raised a finger to calm Trinket. Trinket snuffled in acknowledgement, but still shifted a bit on the tiles, uneasy.

Vex had long stopped asking herself how her brother managed to hide his daggers for every occasion. She pressed a hand to her stomach, thoughtful. “He really is slippery,” she chuckled, surprising herself with her own amusement.

“All the dangerous ones are,” Gilmore warned, far too knowing, and she exchanged a smile with him.

“All the more fun for us,” she said, flexing her fingers.

Gilmore cleared his throat. “Indeed.”

“Before we left, I found this.” She dug into her pack and drew out the scroll. “It was in one of his pockets,” she added, unabashed when Gilmore smirked at her. “And when I opened it, it was covered in some scribbles. I don't understand the language but I was hoping that you'd take a look. Help confirm a suspicion.”

“And what suspicion was that?” Gilmore asked as he unrolled the thick, yellow parchment, its sides ragged by wear and time.

“That it’s a spell. Possibly the one that turned him into that monster,” she stated, grim in that matter of fact way that reminded her of Syldor.

“Please someone tell me that I'm not the only one who thinks this is a terrible idea,” Vax said. He toed an already prepared dish of food in the direction of Trinket’s nose and started inspecting the chains wrapped around Percy’s wrists without touching them.

Vex arched her lower back so she could see him duck down to run a blade against Percy’s pockets. “Well, what else was I supposed to do? I wasn't just going to leave him there.”

Beside her Gilmore shrugged, but didn't comment as he studied the parchment closely, teeth nibbling at his lip. Trinket however snuffled at Vax’s direction, curious despite his dinner, and becoming a little impatient with Vax.

“Are you sure that the magic won't wear off?” Vax asked while glancing over at Gilmore, once more ignoring Vex entirely. He was now leaning over to inspect Percy’s face, as if he could measure his character by counting his eyelashes.

Gilmore hummed. “It's a high level enchantment, higher than any I usually come across in my shops. I'll take a closer look now if you want but where I'm sitting I don't think we should have any problems.” Vax’s hand flexed around the knife, but he drew back and stepped out of Trinket’s space, satisfied for now.

“Can you have a look at his injuries?” Vex added. “I think I got most of them, but I'd hate to think of infections. I’m also worried that that smoke could have long term effects on his health.” Gilmore smiled at her and set down the parchment on the table well within her reach. He stood, brushed out the creases of his trousers and pulled his hair behind both of his ears.

“I'll do what I can, you just keep the weight off your foot,” he assured her, touching her shoulder as he moved around the table. “I’ll figure out what that parchment is later and tell you both once I discern the language it’s using. It could take time, and I don’t think Trinket would appreciate having our unwilling guest on his back for much longer.”

Trinket grunted in agreement.

“Thank you, Gilmore. I really appreciate you doing this for us,” Vax said. Vex felt herself still when she saw an intensity she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before flit over Vax’s eyes, his mouth. He swallowed a few times when Gilmore arched a brow at him, his grin turning cocky.

“Anything for a dear friend,” he said, a warm and suggestive curl that hung in the air invitingly.

Vex cleared her throat.

“One second, brother, first things first,” she clambered out of the chair, wobbling on one leg, and hugged Gilmore, smacking a kiss on his cheek. “Hello, Shaun! How lovely it is to see you! And thank you so much for healing me, I feel so much better already,” she said, teasing and grateful in turn.

Gilmore’s smile was blinding and utterly fond as he stroked her hair behind her ear. “It was no trouble. My beautiful Vex’ahlia, it's so wonderful to see you too! I hope your dreadful brother didn't leave you two homeless for very long?”

Vex pouted, pulling away from his arms to fling a hand to her brow, “It's been absolutely dreadful indeed, but I coped, I coped. But you knew that already. You’re probably the only one who can ever understand what a terrible person my brother is, and how you just have learn to deal with it.”

“Ok, that's enough mocking me,” Vax said, rolling his eyes at Trinket, who did a rather impressive pout of his own and turned his head. He had suddenly remembered that he was still miffed with Vax; nothing short of bribery would get into his good graces again.

Vax threw up his hands. “My own nephew turned against me."

Gilmore helped Vex back into the chair and lifted the medicine bag.

“You both really should consider going into acting,” he sighed, teasing, as he clambered over with the bag in hand. “And I thought _I_ could be dramatic.”

He stepped around Vax but despite the size of the kitchen there was no mistaking the deliberate brush of chest against chest, lingering. The slide and momentary tangle of hands.

When they parted again, years later, both acted as if nothing had happened.

As Gilmore bent down to chuck Trinket under his chin and take a look at Percy’s arm, Vax edged over to his sister, hair draping onto her shoulder to act as an effective curtain, and hissed, “Vex if you’ve done this just to _spy_ on me-”

“What? No, no, no brother, I wouldn’t! I wouldn’t even dare! By the way how is it going? You two kissed yet?” She smiled innocently up at him and he sent her a filthy glance.

“What? No, no, I’m not comfortable talking with you about this!”

“Since when have you ever,” she said sarcastically. “And come on, you can’t fool me. Isn't this like your sixth date?

A bloody blush mottled his jaw and ears. “No, it's our bloody fourth - again why the hell am I talking about this with you -”

“Oh my god, are you two taking it _slow_ ,” she interrupted gleefully. “That's so romantic. Never knew you had it in you, brother, you big sap.”

Vax pointedly ignored her to say, “How the hell did you know he was here?”

Vex had to work hard to arrange her aching cheeks into an expression of contrite innocence. “Well. When I was wrongfully kicked out, I just happened to send a letter to Gilmore. He’s my best friend, I can do that!” she protested at Vax’s rolling eyes. “And I was just saying how frightfully ill Trinket was, and how I had to care for him but it meant leaving my poor brother alone and vulnerable, in our awfully drafty house. And would he mind terribly checking up on him for me? See, perfectly innocent.”

“And when did you send this ‘innocent’ message?”

She ran her thumb over her bottom lip. “Oh, a week before Trinket got sick.” Vax groaned.

“You're a menace,” he told her, straightening slightly so his hair revealed their faces to the rest of the room. He then ran his hands over his face, as if to scrub off his embarrassment.

“You're just annoyed that I interrupted your date.”

“No, I'm annoyed about having a horrible sister like you.”

She scoffed. “Lies.”

She was about to say more to him; about the other dirty wine glasses in the sink, about Gilmore’s coat artfully arranged over Mother’s cloak peg, about the bewildered look Vax kept adopting when he thought no one could see him. All things she felt covetous and fearful about in equal measures. But Vax then said, “You can't distract me forever sister. Why the hell haven't you killed it?

“Hold on, you started the conversation!” she said, outraged.

“Vex,” he warned.

Vex sighed, feeling it pass through her chest and under her skin like weariness. “I gave him my word, Vax. And I need him to find those girls.”

Vax’s teeth sank into his bottom lip. “You're the best tracker I know: you don't need anyone. Least of all him.”

Despite her immediate rejection of the notion, she felt warm with begrudged fondness. “Thank you, darling. Whilst I'm very flattered, you weren't there. You haven't seen what I saw. That whole forest is tainted with evil, probably the same evil that cursed our man. How could I walk away from that without knowing I did my best to stop it. He is a concession to my pride, and not one easily made.”

Vax sighed, the lines of his mouth turned mulish. “I know I'm coming off as a right bastard here but: who cares about his curse? You can't possibly believe that he isn't culpable. That he isn’t dangerous? You accommodate him, but what has he done to assure your safety? You just can’t believe anything he says, Vex.”

“But I do. Don't forget brother, he gave me his word,” she said, and the words sound almost prophetic, like a nail in a coffin.

She didn’t know why she was so focused on that; the belief in the beast’s honour. Had no idea how she could ever explain to her brother the fixation it had aspired in her. Whatever Percy was, he was mistrustful and a menace. Vex couldn’t detach herself from the notion that he could be so much more if given the chance. In all the ghost stories she had listened to as a child - wide eyed and with breathless wonder - none of them had prideful beasts whose ethics were centered solely on words, and their immutable contracts with honour. Not at all like the way her father used words and pleasantries to dictate Syngorn’s politics with.

She had barely known Percy for an hour, and yet there was something about him that inspired her.

Vax opened his mouth, no doubt to argue further, but Gilmore interrupted by shaking his hands out and cracking his knuckles.

“Considering the family he hails from, you might want to hold off your suspicion of his character for a moment,” he piped up. His voice sounded frail and haunted, and it was so out of the blue and uncharacteristically stilted that Vex, if she wasn’t gaping unattractively at him, would have thought that he'd been building up towards the revelation, and had only now decided to say anything.

Vax, unattractive mouth also hanging, said, “What do you mean?”

Gilmore shifted, uncomfortable. “I thought I recognised the de Rolo name. They're an ancient royal lineage from Whitestone. Or, were. The whole family were murdered I say- three years ago?” Vex blinked and glanced over at Trinket, at Percy snoring on his back, his face slack and pain free. “There were rumours that some members of the family survived, but so far they have just been whispers, and no one has dared come forward to claim the title and it’s assorted riches. If your man is telling the truth, there is a lot more to the situation than we first thought. I wonder.” Here he also looked over at Percy, and there were lines starting to curve around his mouth, unpracticed worry taking a toll. “If maybe Vax is right. Maybe a deal with such auspicious strings was a vely bad idea.”

“We can't leave the children,” Vex protested, and Gilmore sent her a resigned if fond smile, as if he knew she was going to say that. She resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at him.

She jumped when Vax’s warm hand landed on her shoulder, the chair groaning under the sudden combined weight, which is indeed a feat considering how heavy they both weren’t when soaking wet.

“I know, but we’ll find some other way of saving them, don't worry sister,” he assured her, fingers squeezing into the meat under her collarbone. “Once we interrogate our new pet and figure out what to do with him, we’ll set up a plan to get those girls back.”

Gilmore said carefully, “If there even is a way.”

Vex and Vax as one titled their heads. “What?”

Gilmore shifted in place and fiddled with the sleeve of his robe. “Well it’s not exactly a new problem. I'm sorry, my dear.” He cast a beseeching look to Vax. “But I did have an additional agenda in mind when I agreed to come visit you. Several people have gone missing from the area in the last two months. Girls. Some boys. All under ten years. My friend, Allura of Emon’s council, and I have been carefully investigating the situation, but have so far been unsuccessful.”

“It’s alright, Shaun,” Vax said, his smile crooked even as his hands tense in wariness. “You did what you had to. Hell, I offered our place for you to stay in.”

Vex meanwhile straightened in her seat. “Several? So I was right?”

“Yes, Vex. But, and I say this with all honesty... There have been bodies. I’m sorry, but the missing person you are looking for might very well be one of them.”

Vex felt a sharp plummet of wings in her stomach and had to breathe through it.

She said, around the fingers pressed to her mouth, “Where were they found?”

Gilmore paused to think. Then he moved around to sit at the other chair again, settling with an ungainly and exhausted thump. Vax hurried to the sink to wet a dishcloth. “More or less around the woods, towards the treeline.”

“Intact?”

“Of a sort. The officials presented it to the council as animal attacks. Allura and I believed otherwise.” Vax pressed the wet fabric to Gilmore’s hand, who lifted it to wipe at his forehead. “I went to the forest myself before I came here. I ran some tests, patrolled the area, tried and failed to find something to reveal it’s secrets. It was goddamn creepy in there. I didn’t even encounter our friend.”

He nodded at Percy. “Lucky for me perhaps. In the end I did find something. It was that rift of magic that you saw Vex. Except I didn’t see just one, I saw several. And when I tried some of my enchantments to understand what they were, or even to close them, they started draining away the magic I was feeding them. Fairly wiped me out, let me tell you,” he chuckled, face drawn. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Nothing I did worked. So I sent a letter to Allura when I came here. She is fairly powerful, and more knowledgeable about such matters than I. Hopefully she’ll be able to tell us more about what the hell is going on in there.”

“Why didn’t Allura come?” Vex said, curious. “Forgive me, I know you are talented in your own right,” Gilmore flushed, pleased. “But, you’re a shop keeper. I didn’t think creepy woods and detective work were your style, or expertise.”

“You’re forgiven,” he said, dry. “But yes, I thought that too when she first came to me. She’s rather tied up at the moment. The King hasn’t… been himself lately.” Gilmore added carefully. Vex and Vax exchanged a look.

“Anything we need to be worried about?” Vax said, and Gilmore simply reached over and patted his hand in response.

“We’re not entirely sure if there is anything to be worried about,” he admitted. “Allura might be the only one who has noticed the change, but I reckon others of the council are getting suspicious over the King’s capability to rule. Nothing has been officially announced, you hear? Again, it’s only whispers. Allura has in the past requested my assistance with magical matters, so she trusted me to keep my head down and complete the task. And then bodies showed up. I couldn’t really say no. She and I agreed that decisive action had to be taken, and I have close allies and customers who are also becoming unsettled with those woods because, well, they are relatively close to the main Silvercut trade routes. We have a lot of fingers in a lot of unknown pies at the moment,” he allowed, effectively closing that avenue of discussion.

“So this is really far bigger than we thought,” Vax said.

“Unfortunately,” Gilmore replied, rueful.

Vex felt the ghost impression of her arrow, the jagged tip sinking into her thumb and around the sharpening stone she usually carried with her. “We’ll know more when Percy wakes up. We can prepare better,” she tried while aiming a determined gaze up at her brother. Vax watched her for a minute, a frown creeping insidious around his eyes, and she quietly wondered what he was trying to read from her.

He huffed in annoyance, the sound exploding out of him and Vex knew she’d won. “Ok fine, he can stay. But Vex if he tries _anything-_ ”

“Yes, yes, fine,” she said and waved her hand in front of him to swat away his irritated scowl.

“I'm serious Vex’ahlia, if he even looks at you the wrong way-”

“I heard you, I'm agreeing with you, you fuck,” she said. He just sighed again and ruffled her hair, nails catching on hair that has escaped her braid.

“Come on,” he told her. “You’re hair’s a mess. Did you roll around in leaves and twigs or something?”

“Or something,” she replied airily, then yelped when Vax yanked the tie out of her braid and set upon it with renewed determination.

“What are we going to do with Trinket’s human sweater?” Gilmore said, amused as Vex winced and groaned at every tug and twinge.

“Stick him in the outhouse. If he is as lordly as you say he is, he’ll feel right at home on a throne,” Vax said, grumpily, before taking out a comb from nowhere and attacked what was left of her hair like the savage scalp tormentor he was.

Vex was only too happy to pinch his stomach, adding a savage twist and dig of her nails in revenge.

Gilmore, meanwhile, rolled his eyes and went to make tea and some food to satisfy Vex’s growling stomach.

* * *

They eventually agreed to move Percy to the moth-eaten sofa in the living room while Vax threw a too big shirt through Percy’s arms and over his head; more to preserve the sofa fabric from dirt than his own comfort.

Trinket expressed his joy over his newfound freedom by shaking his fur out and lumbering over to collapse in front of the fireplace, falling into a shallow, snore ridden nap.

The sky had fully purpled then plunged into a deep plum at this point. The windows were a stark black, and yet the candles and firelight illuminated the cobwebs and scuttling insects that crowded the four corners of the pane. The house felt pressed in, tucked away in whatever corner of the field their mother had chosen so she could live as far away from Bryoden without completely cutting herself off. It was probably the luckiest decision she had ever made, for they had been far away enough that an ancient red dragon had blown past the house as it burnt Byroden down to ash.

Sometimes, as a child and even now, Vex thought their house was the loneliest, and the most dreary. It wasn't hard to draw parallels between it and the Ivyheart Thicket, and probably one of the reasons Vex so often made the trip to explore it. Other than that, the house did its best to stand on its own two feet.

The wood was cracked and frayed but Mother had taught them how to oil the tables and paint the wood. Blankets and hand-made pillows sat in clusters or messily tidied in hand carved cupboards. Cheap paint cracked and frayed around the edges of the chairs, the joints on the table. Worn carpets draped between the doors threshold and all the way to the broken tiles. Old frames or ornaments lined the walls, pale gaps yawned wide between certain worthless ones. It was stuffed with earthy colours with some blues, splashes of grey whites and lilacs in rustic patterns that might have complimented the wood a few decades ago. Mother believed that making them fat with colours might help them ignore how fat on air their stomachs were getting. The house was built generations ago, rooted and grown under the watch of ghosts that had lived in the house before.

Despite its history there was nothing to suggest the age other than the colour of its wood. In the dark the house was just a cabin bleached clean. And yet it was theirs and would remain to be for possibly the rest of Vex and Vax’s extended lives.

She thought of all that while they waited for Percy to wake up.

“Are you sure you didn't accidentally kill him?” Vax asked several hours into their watching. Their stomachs were full of Gilmore's home-loved beef stew, the house still lingering with its smells. Vex had been slowly growing antsy over the hour, over the itch at the corner of her eye that she was having difficulty digging out.

Mother’s favourite blanket had been pulled over Percy’s sleeping form until only his long nose was exposed. The threads framed the bruises, the starved cheekbones, and Vex was tempted to place the stew smeared cooking pot under his nose to see if he would respond. After several minutes, she relented. 

The three of them gathered like hungry vultures on the chairs and sofas near Percy, blocking him off from the door to outside in case he was faking his slumber.

Vax perched himself on an arm, half in shadow and at the perfect angle to be hid himself from Percy’s periphery when he finally woke. Gilmore was on the other side of the room with a book that had not come from their broken down collection. Vex had taken the chair by the door with her bow at her feet and several arrows on the small table where they kept their bags and the small pile of emergency shopping coins. When Percy woke, he would be talking to her over his left shoulder.

Vex was also bristling. As she worked to sharpen her third arrow tip she felt her molars grind into powder, and wondered whether she made the right decision. She also knew that her eyebrows and fingers had taken on sharp edges; a delayed reaction that telegraphed her growing discomfort over having a stranger in her home, waiting for the chance to rummage around and invade her secrets. She almost wanted to claw his eyes out to protect the ones pressed into the ribs and exposed throat of her home.

It was one thing to be inspired by the man, and quite another to allow a trespasser into her home.

Vax must have just rolled his eyes because at one point he sidled up to the door to press his fingers into her elbow. When he whispered, “Easy, Stubby”, his attitude was a complete turnaround from earlier, and she couldn’t help but burn with envy.

When the midnight candle sputtered and died, Percy opened his eyes.

“Hello sleepy!” Vex called out.

Percy just groaned and covered his eyes, his elbow jutting over the back of the sofa.

“Where am I?” he rasped. Vex put her arrows down, saw Gilmore also setting his book to the side after a final page turn. Vax didn’t move. She didn’t think he was even breathing.

“You’re at my place. I thought you could use a little fattening up,” she indicated the bowl of cold food the floor near his head, even though he couldn’t see her.

His elbows disappeared under the blanket, and his head turned to show the back of his head to where she was seated as he looked to the food, then at the fireplace. As if he could feel eyes on him, Trinket woke with a snort. He then clambered to his feet to shake his fur around, then began sniffing his way to Percy and food.

“Trinket wasn't part of my imagination then?” Percy said, warily staring at the great hulk of fur snuffling suspiciously at his white shirt. He turned his head and gave a start when he spotted Gilmore, then glanced immediately to the door where she was. He sat up immediately, despite the reflexive flinch when he put weight on his arm. When he looked at her he didn't quite meet her eyes, and for a moment it was strangely flattering.

“You don't really put much stock in your mental faculties do you?” She teased. Then she got out her brother's dagger and used it to pick at her nails. “You put a hex on me,” she accused.

Percy, as if despite himself, snorted. “What is it with you and threatening me with weapons?” He said, amused and, judging from his pale lips, still a little afraid.

Vex tilted her head. There was an ache building in her lower back from the chair, and despite their age the sofas would have been a much more comfortable option no matter how tense you were. So the stiff shoulders and clenched jaw that seemed to double Percy’s posture into an unpracticed slouch didn't make sense to her. Vex stood and strode towards the sofa to loom over him, close enough to win a wary flicker of his eyes, close enough that he couldn’t avoid her anymore.

He actually jumped when Vax snarled, “The Lady asked you a question, so start talking Whitey.”

“Percy meet Vax. Vax meet my beast,” Vex said cheerily. “That's Gilmore in the other sofa, our wonderful entrepreneur and quite an excellent chef.”

“Vex, my dear, you're making me blush,” Gilmore hummed as he folded his arms together.

Vax then stalked over to shove a knife under Percy’s throat. Percy was forced to lean back into the pillows, and one corner of the blanket slid down to reveal the dried blood on his shirt that had seeped into his pants. It looked abrupt and threatening next to Mother’s blanket. Vax loomed over Percy. “You threatened my sister,” he said, coldly. His eyes were a glittering black in stark contrast with his pale face.

Percy displayed a previously unknown but wholly unsurprising death wish by saying, “Oh good, I really thought I was seeing double there.”

Two more daggers were aimed at him and Gilmore’s eyes turned electric purple. Percy’s throat juddered around Vax’s knife.

“Wrong thing to say?” he said, dry.

Vex just raised an eyebrow. “The hex?”

Percy sighed, shoulders relaxing into the pillow. He still looked like another couple of hours sleep would do him some good, though not by much. “I wasn't sure I could trust that you weren't a Briarwood, or one of their minions sent to entice me.”

Gilmore drew in a quick breath, which prompted Vex to glance to him and ask, “Briarwood? What's a Briarwood?

“Not a what. Who,” Gilmore said, unfolding his arms to prop them on his knees so he can rub at his goatee, gaze orienting inward as he continued, thoughtfully, “The Lord Silas, and his wife, the Lady Delilah Briarwood. They are a significant influence within the Emon council. Great allies to the King himself. Are you saying that they did this to you? Because that would be tantamount to treason.”

“You may know them as saints,” Percy said, and there’s an edge to his voice that warned of sharp steel and violence. “But they are far more dangerous than you can ever comprehend.”

“Explain it to us then,” Gilmore said, smooth as ice. As if following an unspoken cue, Vax retreated back to his original perch.

Free, Percy’s shoulders hunched inwards, regret making his jaw clench and his temples flex.

“I can’t put you in anymore danger than I already have by being here. You should not have brought me to your home,” he told Vex. She crossed her arms and levelled a glare at him, ignoring the pleading look in his eyes, at the request that even he didn’t know he wanted to ask. It was there around his eyes, in the nervous chewing of his lip, in the finger that worried the space between his eyes. 

“We’ll be in far more danger if we’re left in the dark. You seem like a man who prizes information a hell of a great deal. So, try us,” she said.

“I shouldn’t tell you anything.”

She sighed. “Trust us. Please, for the missing girl. Remember her?”

He closed his eyes, considering inward. “Iris.”

“That’s right,” Vex said, relieved. “For Iris. You must know something. Help us find out what is going on in the Ivyheart Thicket.”

Percy rubbed at his forehead, thumb extended outwards as he worried at a particularly deep line. He still wouldn’t look at Vex, a detail she kept noticing because his eyes darted towards the blurry corners of her elbows, at her weapon, and not directly at the door. The blanket slipped down even further in his lap, and the chains swim dully in the firelight where they peak out from under Vax’s loaned shirt.

He heaved a resigned sigh.

“I suppose I should start at the beginning. Well, as you already know,” he nodded at Vex before addressing them all as a group, “My name is Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowki de Rolo the Third. I am… the last of my family. We lived in a city in the north called Whitestone, where we traded with agriculture and mining. I don’t want to get into the details but know that I came from a big family. A proud family. About three years ago our family hosted the Briarwoods, for dinner. They were charming and intelligent, perfect adult companions for my parents to become acquainted with. By the end of the evening my entire family had been slaughtered, except for me and my younger sister, Cassandra. All our allies deserted us. Several days after the event, my sister helped free me so we could escape our home. I succeeded, but Cassandra,” he stopped. Swallowed.

“For two years I travelled. As far from Whitestone as I could. To be honest I don’t remember much from that time. I had nothing else outside of my family. I think I was on a ship at some point, just sailing the waters aimlessly until a time where I could return and retake my home. To set things right. And then I did. It... didn’t exactly go well.”

Vex leaned forward, presses her full weight on the back of the sofa until her shoulderblades strained to meet each other. She tilted her head to look at him, just to catch a glimpse of those stunning blue eyes. Percy met her gaze easily, for the first time since he woke up, and it felt like a shock tingling her lips. “What happened? How exactly did you become that beast?”

Percy cleared his throat, shifted a bit more into the sofa, then continued haltingly, “There was a member of their party that helped in the takeover. Dr. Anna Ripley. I tracked her for the better part of six months, and somewhere I intercepted a message from Whitestone that warned of their impeding departure to Emon. I decided that I would never get an opportunity to surprise them again. I knew there were people back at Whitestone who needed to be freed from their control, so I went after the Briarwoods. Only to discover that they were waiting for me. I was arrogant. I was a fool, and unprepared. Delilah Briarwood is a powerful sorceress of some kind, I’m not sure what exactly, but it was she who cursed me. Who turned me into that… that thing,” his lip curled in disgust. “One moment I was facing Silas down, then Delilah was muttering under her breath and I was in considerable agony. My mind became dulled down to basic instincts. I had no sense of my selfhood or my agency. The person I was became, for all intents and purposes, lost.

“I once more had to flee my home. I travelled south, as that beast. I foraged and did what I could to survive, and did as much as I could to keep on the move. That is until I came across your woods, and set a home for myself. There I lost myself even further into the mind of the beast.”

“You remembered all that while you were the beast?” Vex said.

Percy rubbed his forehead again. There’s sweat starting to matt the hair at his temple. “No. Yes. I don’t know; bits. It’s all a blur, with sparse periods of lucidity. I know enough about where I ended up and how I ended up.”

“Do you know how to break the enchantment?” Vex said, splitting her attention between both Percy and Gilmore. Gilmore looked thoughtful.

“It’s a high level one. Far beyond my capabilities,” he restablished. He sent a cautious glance Percy’s way. “I’m sure Allura will know something, or someone powerful enough. However, it remains to be seen as to the validity of his statement.”

Percy levelled an exasperated glance at Gilmore, but it seemed to be an expression that masked exhaustion rather than true irritation. “Make no mistake, they are evil and corrupting, and if they have a hand in Emon’s government and politics then assume that the whole institution has been tainted by their hands. Believe me or not, trust me or not, you cannot deny the doubt that has already taken root. Such charm always hides maggots writhing in rotten flesh.”

Vex took a deep breath, her heavy head lowering so her braid slipped to rest on the sofa’s back. “Right, now my dinner has been ruined. Still, why would they be after you? Surely, they have control of your Whitestone, and have rather effectively removed you from the equation. They can’t still want you dead, can they?”

“I stole something from them,” Percy admitted, watching her warily.

“The parchment? Oh yes, we know all about that,” she said, coyly, and Percy groaned in annoyance.

“Troublesome woman,” he smirked, begrudging, and Vex let her carefully cultivated, dangerous smile spread.

“What do you know about Iris?” Vax said suddenly. “There have been other disappearances as well, you know this. All children around her age. Do you remember seeing any children in the woods?”

Dismay filtered through Percy’s eyes. “Did they find bodies?”

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.” Now Percy’s hand found his hair and started gripping. Vex experienced the flash of memory; the visceral moment she pulled his leg out from the bear trap and he howled in unwanted pain. Intense eyes found Vax and he snapped out, “This is important, where there bite marks on their neck?”

“No?” Gilmore spoke up, and Percy’s electric attention sparked in his direction.

“Are you sure?”

“Any reports we have been given have been summarised, and often involves the heavy hand of the local authorities,” Gilmore replied smoothly, as if reciting an official document. “Emon has been a little distracted with trouble within its walls, so official accounts have been… brief.”

“It might be a little helpful then, if you could fill in some blanks,” Vax added with a twirl of his dagger, long fingers curving over the handle. “That’s why you’re still here after all.”

Vex shot him a glare which he ignored, the bastard. On the sofa Percy was curling forward into himself, fossilising thirty years before them in a riot of greyscale; white lips, clammy skin, dark eyes.

“They’ve been tracking me,” he told his hands. “They’re here.”

“The Briarwoods are in the Thicket?” Vex said, feeling the words jolt in her mouth.

“There’s something you should know about Silas Briarwood: He’s a vampire. And yes,” he said around Gilmore’s explosive breath of surprise. “I know how ridiculous that sounds but it’s the truth. I only found out when I confronted them, believe me I’m still trying to come to terms with it myself.”

“A Vampire? They haven’t been this far south in decades,” Vax said. “What the hell are they even doing in Tal’Dorei?”

“I wish I knew. They were travellers seeking shelter, but a lot could have changed since then. I have considered all the possible agendas they might have had in taking Whitestone, but I admit that thoughts of revenge have somewhat… clouded my judgement. More so as a beast, I have found,” Percy said with a rueful smirk as he pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose.

Vex finally straightened, felt her forearms ache and her teeth worry at her lip. “Fuck,” she breathed. “They’re going to make things a lot more difficult now.”

“Still think it’s a good idea to help this guy?” Vax said, brow high and mouth twisted in displeasure. Anger bubbled in her throat and she was about to open it to spew lava when Gilmore made an impatient noise.

“Do you even desire for the chance to be free again? To no longer be cursed?” Gilmore’s hands steepled together, and he carefully ignored the twins as his gaze pierced through the chains around Percy’s stomach. Percy blinked, then his sight clouded over again.

Vex drew in a breath and held it as she waited for his response, thinking that throughout the conversation he hadn’t looked desperate for the chance to lift the enchantment. She mentally poked at a blossoming bruise growing like cancer in her heart, and wondered what was it about sad eyes that captured her interest. Men like Percy were fleeting, and pity only went so far when she knew how many never stayed.

“I’m not sure,” Percy admitted, almost to himself. “I knew that the scroll I stole wouldn’t help me, and that it possessed far more power than I could imagine. This thing with the Briarwoods… I’m not sure all that is going on. I don’t know what this is. There are things I have done, things that I have created. I’m willing to see whatever punishment has come my way if it means I can defeat them. Truthfully? I’m terrified. Of everything that has happened, and will possibly still happen. And I don’t admit that too often. Especially to strangers that I’ve possibly condemned to death.”

“Well, we’re hardly strangers at this point,” Vex said, pointedly.

“I didn’t ask you to help me. You don’t have to do anything,” Percy said, pleading while watching the way her braid slipped over her shoulder in the candlelight, her steady gaze.

“Darling. There’s curses, vampires controlling a city, missing children, and a chance to do some good and help you take revenge your family. I am so in.”

“What makes you think I even want your help? You can’t even get me free of this curse,” he said. His hands were twisting at the blanket again but his posture had improved, like there was a straight line running through his spine and into his shoulders. 

She pushed herself up and sighed in annoyance, aware of Gilmore’s eyes making a slow trek between the two of them. Leaning closer, she could still see the smudges of soot staining Percy’s irises. She struggled with her words for a second, felt them sit like fat cotton in her mouth, before saying, “You have to learn at some point that you don’t even need to ask. We’re all that you’ve got, I suspect. You claim yourself a fool but I really don’t think you are. Well, perhaps most of the time. Here is a hand; take it.”

He gave her a long look, searching. It flickered between her outstretched hand, the line of her sleeve, and up to her mouth before settling on her eyes. He repeated the whole cycle over again. His neck was very pale, the shape elongated by the angle of his chin. The collarbones were set in a rough arch that complemented the strong, lightly stubbled jaw. She watched for signs of weakness, of the vulnerability that had flared throughout the night like the split skin of his dry lips that opened and closed and opened again. She was left wanting however, for now he had found the courage to look at her head on.

Percy talked to her more openly now like he did back in the woods. He returned her scrutinising look, regarded her as if he was rediscovering the colour of her hair feathers, the orange slash of her mother’s faded handkerchief tucked into her leather breastplate. Under the press of his gaze and the fat breastplate weighing heavy with the night air, she remembered with a start that she had forgotten to take her armour off.

“Back in the woods you asked me to help you. To believe in you. Maybe now’s the chance for you to repay that favour,” she offered. Then, because she could, she winked at him.

Percy’s breath stuttered, a sharp sucking of air between his teeth. The fire crackled behind him. Gilmore breathed quietly while Trinket snored; and Vax grounded his teeth together in his dark corner. But for all that Vex cared it was just her and Percy as it was in the Thicket; striking a bargain.

And just like last time, Percival was determined to surprise her.

“I trust you,” he said, reaching up to clasp her hand. The grip was strong, dry, and strangely rough callouses caught and dragged against the fine lines running into her palm. They shook, a brief motion designed for practicality that transmuted to a lingering consideration. Then Vex drew her hand away to hide it behind the sofa’s back.

“You sure about that?” She asked, teasing. But there was a tremble to her smile, and when she glanced at Gilmore and Vax it was to see them exchange an unspoken grimace. Percy had a knowing twist developing in the corner of his mouth.

“You are only happy when a haggle goes in your favour,” he said with a mock sigh. “Considering it’s the only time you act favourably towards me, then I can hardly deny you that.”

“Quite right,” she said as she lifted her chin in the air. “There are certain rules to be maintained in this house. Number one is that women always know best, so keep them happy.”

“Yes, my Lady,” Percy drawled, and the unexpected hot flush that engulfed her stomach made her grin with faint laughter.

As predicted, Vax’s good behaviour explodes outwards in a flurry of motion.

A dagger struck the sofa cushion an inch too close to Percy’s left shoulder with a loud ripping motion. Vex could see yellow stuffing and goose feathers poke through the dark fabric, like fluffy eyes staring accusingly at the ceiling.

She rounded on Vax, “Brother!”

“That’s a warning for you,” Vax said hotly to Percy. “Hurt her and the next knife will hit your black heart.”

“Brother, dear, we’re doing the dishes,” she snapped out. She marched over, a hand flying out to quieten a snorting Trinket while another grabbed Vax’s sleeve and forcibly dragged him off his perch and towards the kitchen.

As she stalked past she saw Gilmore resettling himself back down on the sofa, after he had clearly jumped up in surprise. His features had smoothed over, but there was a quelling look in his eyes that caused Vax, when he glanced over at him, to hang his head in a petulant frown.

Tactically, the kitchen wasn’t the best choice to argue with her brother since it was an open plan with a sturdy if unshapely counter separating it from the living room. However, once she had the pump going and cold water splashing the plates, she could furiously whisper with him over the gurgling pipes and roaring water with some privacy.

She tossed him a towel and used her best Elena glare to strong arm her unruly brother into picking up a plate and drying it.

“Honestly, I can’t believe how bloody reckless you can be sometimes,” she snapped, picking up a mortar and attacking it with soapy rags.

“I was defending us,” Vax hissed, taking her cue to lower his voice even as it forced a resentful proximity; their bodies pressed close together over a sink and raggedy crockery.

“You were being an asshole.” The mortar screeched when she dropped it in the metal tub that acted as a sink. She set on the cutlery with practised ire, and Vax whipped his towel over the mortar’s surface with quick efficiency.

“With good reason. He was clearly lying when he told you he trusted us,” Vax said, and Vex faltered, the blunt edge of the knife digging into the meat of her hand and a fork’s prongs poked the inside of her wrist.

“After what he’s been through I don’t blame him for not trusting us. First we bring him to our home, leave him bound in chains that are clearly hurting him, then we attack him! Stellar manners, brother, very stellar. Clearly I’m the favourite if he said he trusted me,” she said with a pointed eyebrow raised at him. 

“Like you’re not to blame?” Vax said, tossing the towel away to properly face her. “You thought you could outsmart him,” he accused. “You thought you could bargain with him and haggle a result in your favour. I don't think taking advantage of him was a wise decision, sister. You have to see that.”

“He won’t hurt us. I believe _that_ ,” she said. It was suspiciously quiet in the living room, absent of Percy and Gilmore’s earlier mutterings when the water first sprung forth and concealed their meaning. She was determined to ignore it; stood taller so she had a physical standing in the argument, bared her teeth, and refused to back away from her brother’s thunderous brow.

“Yes, but do you trust him?” Vax pressed and she huffed before turning to observe the window above the kitchen sink, the feathers tied to a string that hung from the frame almost like shining beacons against the dark.

“What does that matter?” She asked the window, dismissive.

Vax is silent for an unerringly long time.

“He got the drop on you,” he said, slowly.

She glanced over at him. His stare was unflinching and intense, like he had been struck with realisation and didn’t really want to accept the truth he had revealed.

“What? No, no he didn't,” she said, but the sink’s edge was sharp and she couldn’t lean on it forever. She continued to stare at the black window, at the faint reflection she saw there because she didn't trust herself to face her twin and reveal to them both exactly what that light in her eyes was; the damnable smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth despite the harrowing frustration fighting her brother always caused in her heart.

“Yeah, he did. And it’s unsettled you from the look of it.” In the reflection he leaned forward, hand fully on the counter edge now and his shoulders took up enough space to add another level of gravitas to his tone when he said, “I've never seen you like this. What the hell happened in that forest, Vex?”

Vex laughed, and it sounded breathy. There are still smears of food in the bowl she had absently picked up and she scrubbed at them. “I told you. I found a wild and dangerous beast, and more or less agreed to a deal before I brought it home to sleep in our blankets and eat our food. Does that answer your question?”

“Yes. And that’s what’s troubling me,” Vax said, and her heart froze for a second. She glanced over her shoulder at him and there was something on his face and in his hands very much like. Like loss. Like that first month after Mother slipped away in the night, where every movement of their hands and feet carried the awful weighty certainty of realisation.

The tea towel was hanging limp in his hands, and he turned away from her a bit until they were no longer standing like bookends supporting the shared space of blood, history, and the undying loyalty called love.

“Vax?” She said, carefully; unsure.

Vax sniffed, a verbal gathering of himself, before his face rearranged itself from its momentary collapse into something purposeful.

“I should sleep,” he said with an awkward point to his room, far into the newly unchartered depths of the living room.

“Yes. Yes, of course,” she stammered, mortified for some unknown reason. “Sleep’s brilliant.”

“Yeah,” Vax said.

They stared at each other for a minute as something like horror started to dawn on them. Only Trinket's snores barely managed to break the tense silence that had settled on them like melted wax on a table.

Vex shook her head. “Wait, where’s Percy going to sleep?” she said, desperately.

The resulting argument helped them forget about that fraught moment, but by the narrowest of margins. It was a silence between them that Vex would toss and turn over, trapped in her sheets, for the rest of the night and well into morning’s pink birth; the morning light gaping like a baby’s yawning mouth.

* * *

Waking Trinket so he could move to Vex’s admittedly colder room wasn't an issue. The bear adored her and would do anything so long as she brushed his fur, offered him treats and her mumbled baby talk.

Convincing Percy to take her bed was a twenty minute argument from three separate parties (Vax, Vex, and Percy, respectfully) that ended with Gilmore tugging Vax into his room and, with a last affectionate smile at Vex, firmly closing the door with a loud click. Vax’s indignant voice could still be heard through the door, though Gilmore’s more measured tone served to quieten the swell of outrage that seemed to make the bedroom door bristle.

She sighed, fond, before turning to her stubborn patient.

“You're sure you can manage the sofa for the night? It’s not exactly comfortable,” she said, bringing up the compromise they had set up before her brother had been neatly evacuated from the argument. Any further conversation about the Briarwoods had been put on a pin by unspoken agreement; it was approaching midnight and dawn was always the best time for planning Vex felt.

And there would be planning, she was certain of it. At some point they were going to have to march back to the Ivyheart Thicket and defeat a powerful sorcerer and her vampire, all while breaking whatever curse seemed to have befallen the woods and an unfortunate man. It was all Vex could to keep herself from drowning, and doing so in her own bed and pillows with a furry bear keeping her warm was much more preferable than the cold uncertainty that tapped its fingers on her windows.

Percy pulled a complicated face that would have been hilarious any other time. She marvelled at the pursed lips, the heavy brow and wrinkled nose that reminded Vex of a particularly aggressive duckling that had waddled into her path on one of her excursions near the Verdant Expanse. She set her hands to her hips and levelled him a stern gaze.

“Compared to forest floors and rocks, I would consider this a luxury,” he said, determined in the face of her stern stance.

“And insult your hostess by implying an inability to sacrifice her own comforts for the needs of others,” she said in a mock gasp. “However will I recover from such scorn, such horror?”

“There's really no need for dramatics,” Percy said, belligerent, but Vex was so practised in the sacred art of flouncing and shaking out her hands she simply twirled around the house uttering exclamations to spite him. “This is ridiculous, it's just a sofa,” he protested.

She dropped her hands. “It is also making sure you get a good night’s sleep. It's alright to be a mature and self-sacrificing adult, but there's something to be said for comfort.”

“There's also the matter of my pride,” Percy admitted and her eyebrows raised.

“I hadn't noticed,” she said and he pressed his fingers to his nose.

“You have done enough for me, offered me kindness even in the face of everything I have done to you. Casting you out of your own bed might have been the final nail on my esteem,” he said. She fought not to laugh and rolled her eyes.

“Well, we can’t have that can we,” she told him. She titled her hip to consider the sofa and the way Percy had sprawled over it, as if he had had time to get used to its lumps and bumps. He was still sooty and it became him, to an extent. Like it had settled into his skin just as he had somewhat settled into her house. His arm was still red and puffy from where the injury had afflicted his arm, and the chains were a bulky mass under his borrowed shirt. She considered drawing him a bath in the morning and giving the sofa cushions a quick wash as well. Then maybe giving him some aloe vera in the hope that it would less some of the pain.

As she assessed him Percy also had his attention diverted. He was studying the walls of her house, the arrangement of the furniture; the curved dimensions that lead to the front door and the outside world. His mouth had relaxed and his keen regard was considering and soft, like he’d been surprised by the warmth of the place, the overwhelming clutter of a cramped life lived well.

She wondered about what he saw in it. What he must think of their shabby little hut that barely had room for a mother and two growing kids, let alone three full grown men and woman with her bear. How it had all been tailored to the tastes of one person only and left as a shrine ever since. Admittedly, the place had fallen into disrepair. There was only so much both she and Vax could do to keep this place going. It all considered the undeniable fact that both found it difficult to stay here for any length of time longer than two months. It was a wonder it hadn’t collapsed like a deck of playing cards from a single gust of wind but, as it was, it suited their needs (as small and undemanding as they had eventually become) - and that was it.

Uncomfortable all of a sudden, Vex shifted in her skin, her initial displeasure over having intruders returning full force.

“I’ll get you some blankets,” she announced, spinning in a circle to keep her back to Percy.

“I think I have quite enough,” Percy said, before letting out a surprised ‘oof’ when he was buried under three heavily quilted blankets and nearly knocked off the sofa.

“It gets quite cold out here,” she warned him. “I’m sure even your esteem can’t manage a good layer of frost.”

Percy’s head popped out between the blankets, white hair a tufty mess that informed a desperate desire for combing. As if from afar she considered why it was so easy for her to slip into the maternal role, tried to understand her overwhelming need she had resting in her breastbone to smother him with care, and came up blank.

“I don’t know,” Percy said while struggling to extract his arms. “You seem to like putting me in my place.”

“Someone must,” she said with a genuine smile. “Well, sleep well Percy.”

His eyes winked a youthful blue in the dying light of the fireplace.

“Vex’ahlia,” he returned with his own bashful yet courteous bow of his head.

Her room is a welcome relief, a crisp fright that loosened her chest from the residual, suffocating heat that slowly ebbed from the room she just left. When she closed the door she pressed her back to it, ran her tongue along her teeth as a sigh escaped her.

She wasn’t sure what to make of the Percy that kept emerging when it was just the two of them. If the evening was any indication, he could be rude and stubborn and temperamental, with crisp vowels clipping his mouth to leave bloody marks in her vocabulary. She wasn’t so young that money was still a harsh rash between her bones and skin, but there were just things that you couldn’t shake off. For Vex, men like Percy represented the worst she had ever endured under Syldor and Syngorns bile-ridden gazes.

If only Percy wasn’t so easy to talk to. Or seemed to share her humour. Then she might dislike him a lot more.

It was due to thoughts of Percy’s hesitant mouth quirking up, and the argument with her brother, that the night soon saw Vex puttering around her kitchen in her bare feet, her sleep clothes absent of defined wrinkles.

In her distraction, and intent concentration on making as little noise as possible with the water glass, that she failed to see her brother pop soundlessly into the kitchen.

Vex jumped, and Vax reflexes were as sharp as ever as he snatched the glass from the air and returned it to the sink. With her hand on her heart she sent him a filthy glare.

“You did that on purpose,” she hissed. Vax frowned at her, mouth set in a petulant pout.

“No I didn’t, you should have heard me coming ages ago.”

“Well I didn’t,” she whispered back. She eased the tap open and let the water trickle into the glass. Though it was probably safer to look at her brother in the dark she was still afraid to, now that night had bled into a softness that preceded confession.

“Can’t sleep?” Vax said hesitantly. She glanced over at him and took in the loose sleep shirt that he wore along with ragged trousers. Like her, his feet were bare and glowed white with cold. He leaned against the counter by the sink, which put them in almost the same position as they were when they last had their argument. She passed him her glass of water before getting another glass for herself, and all the while Vex resigned herself to a continuation of their disagreement.

She opened her mouth to do just that, but the words didn’t come.

“God, why are we fighting?” She said instead, chuckling low to herself while running a tired line down her face with her hand; past the worry lines on her forehead, the itchy eyes, the age starting to creep around her mouth.

“Beats me,” Vax said, though it sounded half-hearted.

They stood in silence again, revelled in how this one was not as horrible as the silence from earlier. She peeked another glance at him, and saw that Vax looked as exhausted as she felt.

She swallowed before heaving another sigh; and it came out short and resigned if still very fond.

“Truce?” She offered.

Vax’s face drew into a hopeful smile, his dimple a touch chagrined. “Truce.”

“Ok. Then, I’m sorry, Vax,” Vex added in a rush before she could talk herself out of it. “For pushing the whole thing with Gilmore. And I feel like I might have spoiled your weekend with all of this… this. You were probably looking forward to it.”

Vax laughed and put his glass down, quickly snagging her into a tight hug. Water sloshed between them and Vex squeaked as cold water from her own glass soaked her shirt. But she couldn’t admonish Vax because he had one hand in her hair and was stroking it soothingly. His face was turned into her neck and sighing, as if he had missed her.

Vex closed her eyes and slipped one arm around his waist, smelled sandal oils and roses and the faint tang of lavender. She remembered hugs like this when they were children.

When Vex tripped and skinned her knee out on the plains and Vax had held her until Mother arrived, carrying mushrooms in a holy wicker basket. She had worn braids and dark green ribbons in her hair that fluttered in the wind, and she took one of them out to tie around Vex’s wrist so she could focus on that instead of the pain. Vax and Vex had fiddled with the bow the rest of the afternoon while Mother took them home, two hands playing with the tightness of the bracelet, tracing the colour, exploring the slip of silk to skin to silk again. In between, Vax had stroked her hair and her Mother’s hand had been cool and sure as she guided them back through the fields.

When, at seventeen, Vax had an argument with their tutor at Syngorn, and had sat sullenly in his room with his arms crossed over his thin chest. His thunderous scowl tried to mask the fat tears that made their silent way down his receding, pudgy cheeks. He never told her what had happened but she sat with him anyway, and held his hand while he cried on her shoulder and they both dreamt of flying away. They wished their plans in the dark, let them spiral into the inky midnight blue of the ceiling, the distinctly elven cavern that sequestered the pair away from the prying eyes of the other elves at court. They got their wish a month later, when their father for no apparent reason swished into their room and told them they were to go back to Mother. His face had, as always, been impassive and cool, but for the first time there was a hint of anger turning his ears red and his lips sour. They left the following day, holding hands and feeling exultant. Still, Vex looked back at Syngorn’s gates several times before she was satisfied that no one was coming after them to say Syldor had been wrong, that it was a horrendous joke.

“Don’t worry about it,” Vax said. “You didn’t ruin anything. Nothing I haven’t probably ruined already.”

She leaned back until their embrace was a loose one and she could read his face a little better.

“What did you do?” She said, exasperated.

Vax flushed, but he said, “I didn’t do anything. Maybe, started something I shouldn’t have but-”

“I thought you two already kissed before today?” Vex said.

“We did! It’s just, things might have gone somewhere… more,” Vax said, shifting his awkward weight from one foot to the other. Vex took time to enjoy watching her brother literally squirm, until the implications of what he said hit her.

“But, I mean… the blankets. That must have been very… uncomfortable?” she said around the lump resting like a fat toad on her throat, the heady desire to push him away and gag.

“It was spur of the moment,” Vax replied and there was a serious blush setting his face aflame. He hugged her again, probably to hide her horrified if gleeful face, and to further her torture.

“Like that’s not a defining characteristic of yours or anything,” she said grudgingly, smiling into his shoulder.

Vax huffed a laugh into the shell of her ear then said, like a confession, “It was good that you interrupted us when you did. Things were getting a little ah, heated.”

Vex took a moment to digest that. She thought about why Vax would ever want to take the time to savour something when he’d always been the one to keep moving, to leap forward like a reckless arrow. Even now, staying in Mother’s house was not something he would have chosen for himself, and he burned with resentfulness and the unfairness of it all even though he tried to hide it from her. It didn’t work; Vex had known for a while now.

“He's really important to you isn't he?” She said, sounding small.

“I think he might be, Vex,” Vax whispered the confession into her hair; one last secret between them, just for her to press into her heart and try to forget about.

Through some unspoken command, they pulled away. Vex avoided Vax’s eyes, but she leaned up to kiss his forehead with a quick, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Vax said.

“Always,” Vex said around her stinging eyes as she backed away, her hand still clutching her waterglass. Her shirt stuck to her stomach and right breast and she plucked at it fussily.

“Always.”

She smiled up at him and he returned it. Vax then headed to his room, and it broke her heart a little to see him cast her a few glances, as if he was trying to memorise her shivering in their shared kitchen, her arms wrapped around her stomach. She must look very small and scared to him, shining with it through the dark. When he closed the door she dropped the determined, cheery smile she had fixed on her face, and pivoted on her toes to the empty sofa draped artfully with the blankets she had given Percy.

* * *

“Thinking of doing a runner?” She asked Percy when she found him.

He was sitting outside on the porch chair, the one that threatened to stick a splinter in the thigh or ass every time you sat on it. He had dragged a couple of blankets with him, and one was draped over his shoulders so it spilled down his front and over the seat’s wood. There were deep exhaustion lines etched around his eyes and mouth. Red pillow lines wormed their way into his pale cheek, and even his hair looked wilted despite the tossing that no doubt occurred when he tried to settle to sleep.

When she spoke he blinked up blearily at her. She had changed her shirt and pulled on a frayed thick knit jumper over it. Her feet and legs were growing cold even with the trousers and shoes she had hastily slipped on. Her hair was in a bun and she must appear so threadbare and unpresentable to him she stood straighter in half-hearted defence.

And yet, when he looked at her his gaze was full of soft gratitude and pleasant surprise. 

“I thought you would have hunted me down to get your blankets back,” he said. “I didn’t fancy my chances. But they are very nice blankets, it might have been worth it.”

She laughed. “I know someone who would have been flattered by that. Mind if I?” She said when a particularly cold wind blew past her and swirled around the porch, rattling the floorboards.

“Yes, yes of course,” Percy fumbled, moving his blankets aside and fussing with them so a space was created for her to sit. She set down her bow and hurried over. When she was comfortably seated (or as much as possible with this accursed bench) Percy immediately tossed another blanket over her. It missed her head and landed instead on her chest, the ball of fabric bursting open to envelope her stomach and legs.

Recovering from the air that was surprised out of her, she fidgeted with the blanket until she was curled neatly under it, facing Percy while she casually slung her arm over the back of the seat.

“You did that on purpose,” she said shrewdly and Percy adopted a faux innocent look on his face.

There was a touch of pompousness around his chin when he replied, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Of course you don’t.”

He chuckled, smoothing out some folds and running his hands down a blue water trail that sputtered out into bluer birds with curly feathers. It took Mother three tries to perfect those silk swirls, and another month to stitch that gold lace pattern.

Vex rested her head on the crook of her elbow and regarded him for a moment, a question saved over from earlier burning in her mouth like one of Gilmore’s spices.

“I didn’t get to ask earlier. How do you intend to defeat the Briarwoods?” She said anyway. While Percy was left blinking she continued with, “You see Percy, as you know I have a brother. And I’m fairly sure he’s in love for the first time in his life. So that makes Shaun Gilmore my brother-in-law. I also have a bear that I love dearly, and don’t want anything to hurt him. I know I said I would help you in this but I can’t go in blind knowing that they would follow me no matter what I said. This is serious, and I don’t want to risk the fact that, if none of us come back from this, it would be my fault. Because I believed in you before anyone else did. So if you have any idea about how to kill the Briarwoods and stop whatever is happening in the Thicket, now is the time to come clean. Otherwise, I don’t know what I will do, but it won’t be pretty.”

Percy sighed. The blanket edged up to cover his neck, close enough that he could press it to his nose and think. He was avoiding her eyes again but Vex didn’t mind. If he was thinking it indicated that he was taking this seriously, so she was happy to let him sit and stew for a while as long as he came back to her with a plan.

“I have an idea,” he said into the fabric, the words muffled. “It’s not a good one. In fact, it’s most definitely a terrible plan.”

She laughed, a little helplessly. “Well, there’s that at least. My brother and I are experts at terrible plans.”

“You probably won’t like this one much,” Percy said, face grim. “In my youth I was something of a tinkerer. I would fix swords and arrows, make jewellery for my sisters and brothers, create toys, enforce our siege towers and other defences for the castle. I would build all that was needed to defend my home. Including a very specific weapon. One that hasn’t been seen in this world before.”

“What is it?” She said, spellbound as she eyed Percy’s calloused fingers peeking over the edge of the blanket.

“I call it The List. It fires thick pieces of metal out of six chambers and strikes a foe much like an arrow would, only with a lot more force and black powder.”

“Black powder?” Vex nearly yelped, lifting her head from her arm. She had sudden flashes of memory to her trading trips to Emon. Market day was a volatile clamour of merchants and tourists and customers all haggling for prices and bargains. Of gauzy silks and great jars of eyes and teeth, women twirling to folk music, and children ducking in and around the stalls. One particular merchant, covered in soot and missing two fingers, had cackled manically as he set off controlled explosions and sent plumes of smoke and orange flame sputtering into the air in front of a crowd who looked on with awe and terror.

“You know of it?” Percy said, eyebrows arching up.

“I know it’s not something to be handled carelessly,” Vex said, her tone coloured with disapproval. “And you use that to shoot arrows at people?”

“No, not arrows. Sort of metal balls, really,” Percy said hurriedly, as if that would make everything better. She levelled a suspicious glance at him and his eyes contained no mock innocence or a lingering smirk. He was utterly serious, and she was sure that it didn’t bode well.

Wary, she said, “And you can use it to kill?”

“If aimed right,” he replied, grave. 

Vex brought her arm back to hide it under the blankets and close to her chest, watched Percy track her retreat. “You think you can kill the Briarwoods with it?”

Percy frowned and rubbed a thumb along his lips in anxious query. “I hope it can. I designed it for that very purpose.”

“Did it help?” She said.

He nodded, paused to consider, then nodded again albeit more hesitant this time. “Enough.”

Vex leaned forward until her frozen breath could reach him if she blew hard enough for it to curl thickly through the air. “Where is it now?” She said, dread souring her stomach.

Percy flinched. “I don’t know. It wasn’t on me when I regained my senses. I think I must have dropped it at Whitestone.” He drew into himself a little, his nose disappearing fully against the blanket as something like dark loathing furrowed his forehead further into its deep grooves, an unflattering compliment to his dark eyebrows.

“Then why did you tell me all this now?” She demanded, swallowing over the solid chill of fear that erupted in her stomach to travel along her toes. If he had dropped it at Whitestone, if the Briarwoods had a weapon so violent in their hands… It didn’t bare thinking about. 

As Vex cursed Percy to the Underdark and back in her head, Percy dropped the blanket. It slipped down his chest to gather in thick folds around his waist, and she realised that he had purloined her brother’s too large jumper for his own use. The loose fabric bulged where it covered the chains, but his shoulders and arms had filled out the dark green fabric nicely, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.

Thoroughly distracted, she almost missed the way he turned in the seat to face her and said, with the most determined and solemn face she had ever seen on him, “Because you need to know what you’re up against. There is a very small chance that they have it, and in order to defeat them we need something with enough power to even the odds. I might be able to build something similar. It won’t be as elaborate, but it might just help us. It might take me all of tomorrow, but I am confident that I will finish it. But it will be expensive. Very expensive.”

“How expensive are we talking?” She said slowly.

His nose wrinkled. “I’m going to need all the wood and metal you have.”

Screw sending Percy to the Underdark, he will find himself face-planting the Fire Plane with her boot’s imprint on his ass.

“You can afford it, right?” She said, eyes narrowing dangerously.

“If all goes well, I swear to you I will pay you back. With interest,” he said, prompt, with his vowels clipped as he rushed to assure her.

She nodded. “Yes, you bloody will.”

“I will also pay for a new kitchen table,” he added.

Around a sticky throat she managed a, “Sure.”

“I will need your whole house for little over a day. It will be noisy, I will be insufferable, and I might need extra pairs of hands to get it done. If I can’t keep my work entirely outside, then your house will be at the risk of fire and smoke damage. Are you sure you want that?” He said, scanning her for any hint of doubt or unease.

His search was in vain. “Done. On two conditions.”

Percy’s mouth parted in exasperation, but, despite the hand running through his hair, he retained his unwavering attentiveness. “Name them.”

“I assist you every step of the way.”

“Done,” he said immediately. “And the second?”

She watched the dip of pale skin along the inside of his elbow that was slowly exposed by a falling sleeve. “Why does it have to be you? Why must _you_ fight them?” She said, half in thought, half in genuine query. What was it about men like Percy that made them so foolhardy to rush into danger with black powder in their hands?

Percy said, irritation creeping in to snap his mouth tight around the words, “Because I am the last de Rolo. There are responsibilities attached to that that I must fulfill.”

Vex snorted. “Good answer. Now, the real reason, please.”

Percy rolled his eyes. However, whatever imperious might that had puffed up his chest and enshrouded his shoulders like armour fell away. Self-deprecation, an all too recognisable occurrence now, twisted his mouth wry.

“You see me far too well, you know that?” He told her. As Vex took her turn to blink in surprise he said, “Because they took my reasoning. Along with my family, they took away awareness and any choice I coveted. That I didn’t realise I coveted. I was a very lonely child, by choice. I didn’t have to rule, because it was my brother and sister’s job to worry about that. Julius. Vesper. So I was left to do what I wanted, and choose to be what I wanted.

“I loved my books and my studies and my experiments. I wouldn’t have chosen a title, or even to become that beast. I suppose, to be dreadfully whimsical, I want to return to the way everything was but can’t ever be again. If I defeat the Briarwoods then I will become a Lord and responsible for my own castle and subjects. And I will be alone when that happens. But I’d rather be that mindless beast again before I let them have Whitestone for good.”

He sighed. His arm was down again and he was fiddling with the jumper’s cuffs. He was looking away from her again, as if admitting to his faults and fears meant they became reflected in her eyes, and therefore unbearable to see.

“I also have to admit that it’s all to make sure I am the man my Mother wanted me to be. I know that whatever lucidity I fought for I didn’t do it often. I know that I wanted to sink into whatever mindset that beast had because I didn’t know what else to think. To be. Was I still a de Rolo when I couldn’t even determine whether I was still a man? It was so difficult to claw my way to sensibility, and I was so tired. I have been tired for years. And maybe it doesn’t excuse it, I’m not even trying to excuse it and all that I’ve done. But I guess I wanted to explain myself to you. For you to understand. To process all that has happened, I suppose,” he said with a final sigh. “I can’t let them go. I can’t let Whitestone go now that I’m myself again. I don’t think I know how.”

He seemed disorientated when he finished, with a torturous line running down his nose to sweep along the dark shadows under his eyes and frame the weary, gaunt cheekbones. He resembled a great and tragic hero bound by fate and sorrow and it was enough for Vex to reach out and cover his hand with hers; her fingers gripping his thumb and nails sinking into his rough palm.

He studied her hand, then up at her face. There was an open regard around the drained collapse haunting his eyes that she unerringly responded to. “What brought you back?”

He stared at her for several minutes, and the length of time was stretched longer and sharpened by the sudden chill in the air, in the blank uncertainty in his face. She wondered again about what he must be thinking, for his regard was similar to her cursory evaluation of her house. Only, this time, it felt like he was splitting her skin apart to break open skull and worm himself into the grey brain tissue folds.

It seemed incomprehensible to her that Percy thought she saw right through him; he was a clever master who saw into her far better than she could ever hope to understand.

“I don’t know,” he said around a clenched jaw, the muscle ticking.

Vex sucked in an annoyed breath because even she knew a deflection when she saw it. And under a rib, that annoyance took painful root and sat in an ugly brood; sour over the first lie that Percy had told her today. She wasn’t sure what that lie might have been, but she had no intentions of pressing for an answer. There was still so much she didn’t know about him. His explanation earlier of the Briarwoods and how he came to the Thicket were enough to illuminate him, but there was still so much information left in shadow she had to wonder if her brother wasn’t right after all.

Vex then mused on what it said about her that she too would willingly rush to danger. Or that she would gladly do it at Percy’s side. Would that still be the case if he kept lying to her? The thought was a sobering one.

She slumped back. Nighttime’s spectral spell that had bound them to each other’s confidence faded, and she retracted her hand from whatever it had been doing holding his, a rough anchorage she had no chance of explaining. She tried not to let disappointment fill her. Instead, she drew the blanket closer to her shoulders and ran her tongue along the front of her teeth as she turned her body to face the fields and night sky.

On his side of the bench, Percy was quiet. Stuck in his own world despite the low light emitting from the candles.

Vex waited for the moon to disappear behind the clouds. In her periphery Percy moved into his habitual tick; the finger to the bridge of his nose to push back what she guessed should be glasses. She had learned much from him in their short time. He always blinked with surprise when he found the groove left wanting. This time was no exception, and he glanced at her, as if to check that she saw his mistake. She kept her eyes to the clouds, ran her fingers down her sleeves, the blanket’s threads, and said nothing; offering him all the heartfelt patience she could muster while slowly turning to ice. Metaphorical and literal.

When Percy spoke, thereby breaking the tense silence, she held herself very still.

“I… Apologise,” He cleared his throat. Cleared it a few more times in rapid succession before trying again. “I, yes. For the way I handled our first encounter. I was out of my mind with pain and the sudden resurfacing of my humanity. It was a very horrible experience I’d rather not repeat. But that doesn't really excuse the way I had threatened you, and then attempted to crudely manipulate you. It was out of character. Well, not completely, I think. I can't promise to be the good man you think to see in me, nor do I insult your good intelligence and kindness by disagreeing with your good opinion and faith. But for you, I aim to do better. To perhaps ease our interactions somewhat by being a little more responsible and thoughtful when I address you. I don’t have many friends right now. I don’t have any. I was hoping that at least we could be allies. Perhaps we can therefore start anew? Or fresher than before, now we have a better understanding of one another?”

He held out his hand, after a brief squirm in the blankets to free it. She took her time to inspect it when she hadn’t been able to before.

Soot still stained his knuckles, and there was a deep fleshy groove working its way into bone, where he had obviously gripped and wrestled with the chains without her notice. Despite that, Percy had workmans hands that belied deceit, that were a map of hardship carefully cultivated to provide a service both selfish and for the good of family and community. Vex had seen a lot of blacksmith’s workshops, of the men who coveted the skill of their hands and their hard won callouses and whitened scars. She recognised their hands in Percy’s, and didn’t have it in her to listen to the dissonance threatening to pull her away from seat and retreat to the warm yet lonely confines of her room.

She reached out for the middle ground dividing them and enclosed his palm with hers in a shake that lingered, and felt absolute.

When they drew away, Vex nodded to herself and got up to lean against the porch’s entrance, dragging the blanket with her. The warped wood dug into her shoulder, a particularly tight knot nearly stabbing the sensitive nerves at her exposed elbow, and her feet we starting to get cold through her shoes. She tilted her head up and tried to peer through the fuzzy clouds to the stars sparkling above.

Percy didn’t leave her to her solitary star gazing.

Instead he also gathered his blanket and padded over to stand to her right and a little behind. She could sense somehow that he wasn’t looking up, but out. Far, far into the horizon and in the direction of the woods, the shabby home he made his in head rather than spirit. She wondered what living there as a monstrous beast must have been like.

“So,” she offered, just to break the silence. It wasn’t a desire to dispel awkwardness - though that did try to make its presence known - but an attempt to push at barriers. What would Percy do now that they had struck an accord? “You thought I was sent to entice you?”

Percy’s shoulders jerked and he cast her a rough look that she caught with the angle of her chin and a shift of her hips. They regarded each other for a moment, before Vex popped an eyebrow in silent encouragement, the slow curl of her lips saying ‘indulge me’.

Percy’s cheeks flushed but he rose to the challenge, as she expected him to.

“It's happened before,” he offered, bashful, not certain.

“To you?” she said, curious.

“No. Ah,” he cleared his throat. “But you can't trust those who wander in the forests. Not even when the Briarwoods are a constant threat. You are, after all, a very attractive woman.”

That caused Vex’s heart to inexplicably flutter. “You have a type then?” She said in an attempt to recover… something. Her cheeks felt too hot in this cold and she experienced the worrying sensation like she was treading on a frozen lake.

“Certainly not, I would never be so dull,” he said, sounding prim and not at all willing to fold under her light attempts to tease. But there is a small wrinkle in his nose that she was learning to read as suppressed humour, like he was enjoying himself. It was startling, like a multicoloured rose opening its petals in a red and white strip tease.

“But you called me enticing,” she pressed, feeling a frisson of playfulness smoothing the line of her shoulders out until she was standing closer than necessary to Percy. Until she hemmed herself in between the wooden entrance and the solid form of Percy; close and barely touching. Strange. Even after he had pushed up walls she had tried to forcibly draw away, they were pulled back into orbit with each other.

He stayed put, right where she was starting to want him, and his body responded to hers unconsciously. He angled his lanky frame, and there was a slight clink of chains as he towered over her and tilted his head down to see her more fully. She felt comfortably bracketed, even as she canted her head back to expose her throat, and her hair slipped behind her shoulder.

“In the way all dangerous things are, yes,” he said. The lamplight was flickering firefly-like over his face, exposing a glint of teeth between wet lips. His eyes focused intensely on her.

“I'm dangerous?” she drawled which won her a huff of amusement.

“I aim to at least be wary of people who threaten me bodily harm; dangerous is not something I would easily assign to you,” he said, momentarily throwing her.

“What would you call me, then? Apart from enticing, that is.” If she reached out she could touch his arm, press into his warmth and squeeze the cords of muscle that she knew were stretched tight under skin. His stance was relaxed, yet humming with a single-minded focus. She basked in it.

“Terrifying. You terrify me,” he whispered.

Her breath caught in her heart, then plunged down as a current fizzling out through the earth under her feet. Her legs felt like jelly, and her arms twitched in silent beseechment. In that moment she never understood anyone more. “

" _I_ terrify? Careful, Percy,” she said, deflecting yet unable to rid her tone of its distinctive, flirtatious drawl. “I would think you were insulting me.”

What the hell was she doing here?

“Ah well, I find that I am incapable of doing that. You see, you have my utmost respect.”

“Flatterer,” she said, and a tremulous smile broke over his face. A sudden urge to slap her cheeks so she could shake some sense into herself sent her reeling for a moment.

“It’s the least I could do,” Percy said, automatically it seemed. Like it was wholly undesigned and spontaneous. Judging from the wide eyes and the nervous breathing that released white clouds from his mouth in short bursts, he was just as startled by the current running through them as she.

He inhaled and shook his head a bit. “I don’t think I got the chance to say earlier; but thank you again for your blankets.”

“Your welcome,” Vex said, waving a hand in kind dismissal before she blurted out, without meaning to, “My Mother made them.”

Percy blinked. “Ah,” he said. And the way he said it sent her stomach plunging. In his eyes was a flash of electricity, a solid soundless noise of connecting gears and patterns that, when laid out, revealed the whole picture. It was unnerving how quickly Percy reached his conclusion. His eyes let go some of the wariness and recognition began to creep into the framework, the creases around the blue and white.

“My Mother,” Vex began, then swallowed. Percy waited, patient. Sympathetic too, like he understood the bruised grief blossoming under her skin. She took a fortifying breath and continued. “She would read me and Vax horror stories. Adventures. Sometimes fairy tales. Your whole life feels like one of those fairy tales, Percy, you know? A Lord, with his castle taken, and monsters holding it hostage until he can reclaim it. Does that worry you?”

He frowned. “Maybe it’s less fairy tale, and more of a horror story.”

Vex cringed. “I didn’t mean-”

“I know what you meant,” he interrupted. He was surprisingly gentle, a little self-deprecating when he looked at her. She realised that it was his attempt at pushing some humour into the conversation. That he didn’t take her whimsy personally. That he was letting her off with an explanation about the messy disaster of grief and its aftershocks. After all, she thought, he probably understood better than anyone. More even. She still felt shame creeping up into her cheeks, and she fidgeted. A weight pressed down on her chest, and the world suddenly seemed a lot more frightening that it was yesterday.

Percy tilted his head, mused. “I rather think I would make a terrible villain.”

It broke her out of her tumbling thoughts, and she gave a startled laugh. “You, a villain? Why would you think that, dear?”

He blinked. Took off his glasses to wipe them against his shirt, his lips pursing. “I guess at some point in our lives, in our lowest moments, we all rather consider ourselves the villains of our own stories. Or at least some form of murderous beast. And really, it’s better to be a villain than a tragic hero; they all die at the end. And I have no intention of dying.”

“That’s not what you said before. In the Thicket,” Vex whispered.

His face was briefly vulnerable and ashamed when he studied her hunched figure, bent low by the need to conserve heat and the weight of the blankets. “Indeed,” he rasped. He cleared his throat and offered her an apologetic smile.

“Would you have fought?” She said, teeth sinking into her lip.

Percy sighed, rubbed his nose. “I don’t know. Are you satisfied with that answer?”

“Maybe,” she said with a small smile. She felt the watery edge of it split the skin of her lip open, a resulting casualty to the knife cold air.

“In any case, I barely posed a threat. I was taken down with a cleverly made trap and a cunning half-elf traversing the woods.” He, the sly dog, winked at her. “I think it should worry me that I have been reduced to the role of a hapless Lord too steeped in his own arrogance to notice the bee under his very nose, and get trapped so easily. Some villain I turned out to be.”

Vex laughed again, more at the absurdity than anything. Her stomach caught butterflies and they felt sick with glee, with being trapped in such a small space. “More like an unlikely ally who stumbled around until he found the path he was supposed to be on.”

“You think that?” Percy said, and his teeth also found his lip as though he was fidgeting with anticipation.

“You may think yourself a villain, but I standby what I said before. You’re a good man, Percival. And my instincts never lie,” she told him.

It was so easy to talk to him. She could have had the same conversation with many other men or women, and been happy with the way they inevitably played out in her bedroom. And yet this time, right on the porch with Percy, and the blankets spread between them in their arms, it was very different. The stars up above might have been the same, but the way they and the moon shone through the plain and onto the porch felt very much like the wash of the sea erasing footprints in the sand. She was in unchartered beaches now and, to be honest, had been since she first stepped outside with her bow in hand.

“I would be very glad to call you friend,” she finished, leaving the offer out in the cold air.

His reaction was a curious witnessing of collapse. His shoulders slumped down and his mouth pulled up into a half-disbelieving smile. Heartfelt relief shone from his eyes, as if she had truly shocked him. For the first time, he looked very young and shone with vitality.

Vex’s heart thumped, then somersaulted when he said, stumbling a little, “And I would be honoured to return the favour.”

She grinned, felt it stretch to form joyful dimples in her cheeks.

And then reality crashed down in the form of another gust of wind, and Percy’s answering grin inspired an immediate urge to drag him back inside, and push him down on a sofa to have her wicked way with him, Vax and Gilmore in the next room as distant concern.

A very dangerous impulse indeed.

“Well, time for bed then. I rather not loose my fingers to frostbite considering I’ll need them in the day after tomorrow,” she said flippantly, hoping it concealed her sudden nervousness. She avoided his eyes and pulled the blanket off her shoulders to drape it over her arm, freeing up her hands to carry her bow as she fled.

But as she turned back for the house his hand brushed hers. She gave a small gasp as fingers curled around to touch her palm, thumb lingering on the fine bone of her wrist, and then dragged down to hold her fingers in a loose squeeze. Vex turned when Percy lifted her hand into the air, about chest high and inspected it. His face was unreadable, lips parted around an unknown thought.

For one moment, she thought he was going to place another hex on her. She wondered what she’d do to him if he did.

She wanted to dissect him, less out of retaliation and more out of actual curiosity. He couldn’t remain mysterious to her for long or she might just go insane with the need to know. But did she really need to know? Was it right to take one of her brother’s daggers, and cut him open until all the layers of smoke and skin that surrounded him fell away to expose the man her brother saw? Prove Vax right, and one more protect herself like she had done multiple times in the past? She wished, not for the first time, that she could see the world through her brother’s eyes; that the fluke in nature was corrected and twin’s souls would once again become one. Anything to not feel the yawning chasm sliding her and Vax further apart.

Anything to not feel like Percy was insinuating himself into the space left vacant by her brother; as if he had the right.

After several moments of her watching him consider her hand, he said, “It was you. I’m not sure all those that I… hurt. All of my time as that beast is very blurry. But I remember you. You were… utterly sublime; with your arrow and Trinket and the woods at your back. I remember feeling clearer than I’ve ever done and thinking ‘not this one’. Not her. I suppose, out of everything? That was what brought my humanity back.”

He smiled. It looked hollow. “Dreadfully romantic don’t you think?”

If Vex had to describe herself she would claim here wasn't a romantic bone in her body. She never had the time. The few dalliances she had with attractive men and women had all been amicable and short-term. Nothing passionate, or all-consuming. Nothing even remotely like Vax’s ridiculous dance with Gilmore that had evolved rapid-fire into cohabitation; or the heartbreaking loneliness of her Mother, who had to carry the burden of that timeless love for their father for the rest of her life, and never once looked at anyone else. Mother passed away three years ago, and Vex remembered about how heartbroken she had felt.

How she and Vax had wandered the house listless and lost in the shrine of bereavement they had erected in the cold floors and walls; in the blankets Mother had hand sewn, in the cooking pots she had lovingly cleaned, in the dog eared books that had been savoured. Vex thought about the slow ache of grief, and how it seemed to consume her every day until it learned how to ease itself around the corners of her heart. She thought about Percy and how she had studied that same grief that weighed down his shoulders. Shell-shocked and divorced from reality with the pain of it; How the peculiar mix of opiated numbness he affected was the worse kind of denial; toxic, and turning his skin grey with exhaustion and suppressed emotion.

The thing she had learned about romance (or even falling in love) from her family is that you needed people to stick around. If you're going to love someone you have to live with them, or at least try to. And Percy had one foot out the door and far too dangerous to follow, or even chase down. She couldn't blame him, she’d poked her toes at the threshold for years. Even if she didn't consider becoming romantically involved, an idea she rejected wholeheartedly in protest, she couldn't reconcile her heart to become large enough to fit her tiny cabin with yet another man squeezing into the frame. Except, how could you ask someone to love you if they didn't want to stay? If you, yourself, didn't even want to stay in a tiny house full of ghostly memories revisited. Vex, for all that she was slowly accepting the possibility of her brother moving on and making a life with another person, refused to be left behind by anyone else.

She watched the moonlight settle into his glasses, his hair, and caress the shadows of his cheekbones.

No. Not even for him.

“Horribly romantic.”

* * *

End of Part Two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://bilsunderooks.tumblr.com/) for my 'writing inspiration' and 'smoke beast' tags. 
> 
> When I say plotty, I really mean buckle up for exposition, or Vex and everyone talking a lot before they actually get anything done. Hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and Percy and Vax being difficult and dramatic little shits, despite that. I'm not entirely sure when I'll be able to post the next one so I decided to post this chapter a day early. Hopefully the wait won't be too long!


	3. Part Three: Elaina's Cabin II

Early morning found Vex stumbling over her bedroom’s threshold into the living room, fumbling her tatty hair into a braid and trying to tug her top down over her soft stomach.  

Her spine hurt from the stiff seat the night before, and she had to bend a little backwards to work out the knots of muscle plaguing her lower back with her thumb. The air in the cabin was already chilly, but she still felt sleep-warm and confident enough to pad her way to the kitchen and set the beat-up kettle on the stove. Her mouth watered preemptively with the thought of her biweekly blackcurrant tea, a continuous gift from Gilmore that she carefully hoarded in between trips to Emon.

As the kettle whistled she opened the cupboard to find that Gilmore had restocked with extra flavours for her to try; orange and peppermint, lemon and ginger, jasmine. All were neatly labelled in little glass jars.

“Sarenrae bless you, Shaun Gilmore,” she said to herself.

When she turned around, mug in hand full of hot liquid, Percy was upright on the sofa and being stared down by a suspicious Trinket, who had had a very good night’s snuffled sleep even with his mistress’s tossing and turning.

“Trinket’s staring at me,” Percy said, morning’s exhaustion making him sound grumpy and indignant. It was rather cute and Vex had to take a hasty gulp of burning hot tea to dispel the thought. Her tongue prickled in harsh discomfort and she valiantly swallowed a swear. “He woke me up with his nose and now he won’t stop staring at me, why is he staring at me?”

“He’s trying to figure out if you’re safe,” she told him, rolling her eyes at Trinket. “He’s fine. We have it all sorted out now and he’s on our side, leave the poor man to his sleep.”

She made to shoo a belligerent Trinket away but Percy surprised her by holding his hand up. “No, no, let’s get on with this then. I’ll play his game.”

“Oh, you really don't have to,” Vex said, and Trinket sent her an annoyed snort which she promptly ignored.

Percy yanked the blankets to his chest and swung his legs off the sofa to face Trinket. He shuffled for a moment then reached up to fiddle uselessly at the space next to his eye. He rolled his eyes to himself, then squared off his shoulders as if flicking away imaginary dust without using his hands. Throughout this, he said, “I kind of feel like I do. I want to be on good terms with a least one man in this house. Not that you’re not inadequate” he said quickly, then winced when her eyebrow went up. “I just really don’t want to have watch my back while I’m working with you. Gunpowder can be, ah, explosive. Fickle,” he amended. “Pun not intended.”

Vex hummed around her tea. Her mouth threatened to twitch in amusement around the ceramic rim.

Percy winced again, his eyes adopting a hunted, scared look.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said airily. “If you men must have your little discussion don’t let my presence impact it in any way.”

“I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?” Percy said to Trinket, once again displaying an innate talent in reading Vex that was far too accomplished for a mere stranger. 

Trinket, meanwhile, had sat back on his hind legs so he towered over Percy. He pressed his front paws together, as if trying to impart a desire to cross his arms, and sent Percy his best ‘Vax-can-smell-your-shit-Trinket-where-the-hell-have-you-put-it?’ stare.

Percy turned to Trinket to give an equally stern stare, completely unfazed by Trinket’s bulk.

Vex thought it was better for her sanity to ignore the ridiculous if adorable scene by legging it to the kitchen.

When she poured a third cup of tea, one for Percy and another for herself (an indulgence she happily added a chocolate biscuit with), Trinket let out a resounding grunt. There was a heavy settle of paws on wood, then he shouldered his way into the kitchen. In response to her raised eyebrows he sent her a considering glance, great head titled in thought. He then grunted again, coupled with a resolute nod, and ambled over to the freshly prepared breakfast bucket where he tucked in with hearty gusto.

“Well, that’s good to know,” she told him with an exasperate smile. She collected the mugs and took them to the living room, where she encountered Percy standing upright and expertly folding the blankets into neat piles at the end of the sofa. They seemed to sag uneven at the corners.

The mugs clinked together in her hands and Percy span to meet her. He seemed to look a little more open, eyes a little less sleep creased. The shirt, wrinkled from whatever fitful sleep he’d experienced last night, no longer hung loose around his collarbones. He had clearly taken care to arrange it to a more acceptable appearance, fabric smoothed out and the sleeves tightly folded at the elbow. She caught him glancing towards the jumper slung half inside out on top of the sofa, the only thing messy in an otherwise tidied sofa; like he was packing away the fact that he was ever there at all.

“Hi,” she said, sounding both embarrassed and faux jovial, which did wonders for her ego.

“Hey,” he also said, voice rough and thick before he cleared his throat and tried again. “Hi.”

She was so glad that this moment was exceedingly awkward for the both of them.

She edged closer and gently held out a mug into the air, setting her second one down on the table. He accepted the one in her hand graciously, a murmured thanks dancing around the rim and rising with the steam. His eyes flickered closed when he inhaled, enraptured.

Once relieved, she hid her hands behind her back so she could twist at her fingers out of sight. “How’s the arm?”

“Sore,” he said, dry as sand and she smiled, helpless. “Though, I do have to thank you for taking the edge off yesterday. Back in the Thicket.”

“It was nothing,” she demurred, wincing a little. “I did threaten you after all, that's hardly worth seeing me in a good light.” Surprisingly, he barked out a laughter.

“It meant something. Threats aside, I asked you to kill me; you didn't. You bartered my cooperation by prolonging my pain - and still got me out when most would have left me to agony. You gave me your mother’s blankets so I wouldn’t be cold in the night, after telling me I could stay,” he sobered. He then turned his chin up and down in a sort of acknowledgment; a substitute for a bow. “Despite my priggish reluctance, I am in your debt, Vex’ahlia.”

“You should align your favours to Gilmore, he did most of the patching up,” she said, feeling shock electrify her chest, along her collarbones. She hasn't meant to say that - what the hell was wrong with her?

His eyes trailed the incriminating blush arching up her neck and cheeks. Thankfully he dropped whatever argument that had been building in his open mouth.

After Percy’s dramatic proclamation the night before, things turned very tense very quickly. That seemed to be the theme for the whole night, moods and tones shifting at lightning speed with no chance of catching hold for fear of drawing blood. Vex had ripped her hand away like it’d been burned while Percy stepped away just as hastily to gather all the blankets, not meeting her eyes. As one, they returned to the welcoming heat of the house and retreated to their respective beds.

Vex though had hesitated over the threshold to cast a considering look at Percy. He had one of his own, blue irises blown black by the firelight, and they had been locked in a wordless battle of assessment.

How much had they revealed to each other? What truths still needed to be pried free? What the hell was happening to all the walls that were crumbling down between them, strangled by chains?

Would Vex invite him to sleep on a much more comfortable surface?

They hadn’t even wished the other good night.  

Seeing him again in the morning light, Vex felt horribly flushed. Her heart was a bundle of anxious nerves, and she had no idea what to do with her hands. They fluttered around her hair, tried to smoothe out the wrinkles of her own shirt, the lines of her forehead.

“So what’s the plan today?” She said, a little desperate when Percy once more pressed his finger to the bridge of his nose. She retrieved her mug from the table and lemon and ginger soon burned her stomach. “I mean we could make breakfast, but I think you’d rather want to get started on the work as soon as possible.”

“Yes, that sounds like a good idea.” Percy’s hand dropped but there was still a troubled frown bridging his eyebrows. “We can get the arrows done quickly, and even the gun shouldn’t be a problem once we get the forge set up. I just hadn’t planned on several crucial things.”

“We don’t have enough materials?” Vex said, casting a wary eye over the kitchen, the wood haphazardly lining the floor of the living room spreading out to the porch.

“The materials are fine, I should have enough without completely guttering your home. There’s an issue with black powder though, I’m afraid,” he explained. “In all my planning, I forgot to account for it, or even how to acquire it. My previous form left me with nothing, as you’ve seen, since the curse wasn’t exactly a polymorph spell. No money, none of my tools or pieces. They must have all been dropped in Whitestone.” He rubbed at his eyes. Meanwhile, Vex’s hands worried at the mug handle, the one she dropped when she was six and caused a crack that spiderwebbed under the handle.

She took a deep breath and set down her mug again. “I might having something for you, then,” she told him while her hands twitched uselessly into each other, knuckles once more rubbing at that accursed sore spot at her back. Hesitant, she crossed the room to a small cabinet used to store weapons. Once she wrestled with the stiff padlock the door opened and she was able to rummage around to extract a simple, dark brown box. It wasn’t anything fancy; dark swirls and knots of wood interlinked with carved runes and a strange crest that resembled a sun shining, big enough that she had to carry it with both hands. She locked the cabinet again and returned to stand in front of Percy.

Slowly, she held it out for him to see.

“Here. I bought it off some old man in Emon; I thought the box was very pretty and I got a good bargain from it because, well, I think he quite fancied me. The hope was that, someday, I might have found a use for it. Is it enough?” she said, nervous but resolute.

Curiously, Percy seemed choked up. His eyes grew shiny and split open with emotion, and his throat convulsed like grass in the wind. He seemed unable to say anything while his attention was fixated on the box in her hands. His hands skimmed over the top, fingers shaking so badly she feared he might accidentally knock the box to the floor.

Watching him, Vex wondered if Percy was going to have a seizure.

After several more tremulous moments, Percy covered his eyes with his hand. “It’s perfect,” he told her.

“Shall we get started then?” she said, biting her lip.

A terse silence erupted then vanished as quickly as it came. Percy’s hand fell away and he looked at her with all the grim arrogance he displayed yesterday. “The sooner; the better.”

She smiled at him and slipped in a sly wink, feeling deeply relieved and unable to contain it from spilling out into warm regard for him. “Well then: make me some arrows, Tinkerer.”

* * *

Getting Gilmore on hand to help build a furnace was no problem.

The first task of the day was to fill their tub with heated water. Vex disappeared to see the morning sun ascend through the burning orange sky. Percy took a long soak to scrub the grime off his skin with some vegetable soap, while a ragged towel was supplied from the cabinet and draped over a patchy screen next to a half full tub of aloe vera. His injuries had somewhat healed over night with the help of more potions, so no further aid from Vex was required in the application of ointments for scarring.

They’d be permanent, she thought, seeing Percy slip on a shirt in the living room. The welts under the chain would also scar too, judging from the deeper red spreading into horrific blisters. He must be in incredible pain, yet hadn’t said anything at all. Those too would be something else Percy would have to carry with him, tucked under his shields, and Vex wondered, briefly, if there was any harm freeing him from the chains for an afternoon.

After he had dressed they set themselves to the proper tasks.

When the sun had risen properly, they had collected as much wood and small pieces of metal around the house as possible before they ran into a dead end of productivity. Vex then sent Trinket into Vax’s room with explicit instructions to gently wake Shaun and direct him to the living room, and then demand a late morning, dozy cuddle from his favourite uncle. Trinket was all too happy to be the distraction.

Shaun emerged with a spare shirt thrown over his shoulders, sleep pants low on his hips, and thick purple slippers he obviously brought from Emon. He also had terrible bed head that was still devastatingly attractive on him, and when he kissed Vex good morning on the cheek he seemed sleepily comfortable with both affection and the layout of the house. Vex was suddenly struck by the image of Gilmore as an old man, in blissful contentment living out retirement in this home, and she didn’t know if she felt hollow or exceedingly happy about it.

She distracted herself by bossing Percy around with the wood cutting, since living for several years in the middle of nowhere with only logs to heat their house had made Vax and Vex both experts in wood splitting and swinging axes.

Shaun, once dressed and full of tea, seemed delighted by their plan, and when another hour was over they had a makeshift stone forge built from the rocks around the cabin, erected a few meters away from the porch with a wall encircling it to keep out most of the wind.

The air outside smelled of wet grass, the remnant of reluctant frost, and something sweet like pine from the Thicket that had carried in the wind. Some white and purple wildflowers were peeking out around their forge and under their feet, as if saying: hello, good morning, what a lovely day we have to come!

Vex caught herself smiling to them a number of times as she waited for Percy, makeshift bellows in hand, and Shaun with a firespell at the ready set fire to the forge and coax the flames to a blistering heat.

All three of them were hot, covered in grime, and already exhausted despite the sun not quite reaching noon. Percy and Shaun had stripped their outer layers and were sweating through thin shirts, the fabric clinging to torsos, stomachs, and sticky collarbones. The enchanted chain around Percy’s waist had turned slick with sweat and slipped up and down his torso like an absurd belt. Vex would have appreciated the overall sight more except she was fanning her hot face and picking at her own soaked shirt.

She returned to the porch again some time later, with her legs propped on the seat and a pillow molding to her spine. Her hands were covered with splinters, and her knee was throbbing despite its full recovery under Gilmore’s hands. Coupled with the smoke from the forge that sent her into a particularly nasty coughing bout, she had been chased away by Percy and Shaun to rest for a bit. Meanwhile, Shaun applied bursts of magical power into the forge to keep it going, and Percy chopped wood.

The air stank of burnt lavender and woodsy smoke. It was a scent that would stick into Vex’s clothes and follow her around for days unless she washed her hair and everything else several times. She inhaled and tried to imprint it into her lungs, her very blood. Memorising the day for what it was; unique.

In the midst of her quiet reflection the door swung open to reveal Trinket, with several bows and buttons threaded through the fur on his head and as a bring trail down his back, looking thoroughly put out and pitiful.

“Oh, Trinket not again,” Vex cooed sympathetically, mouth twitching around a laugh that threatened to bubble free.

He made a deep noise around a pout and stalked off to rub himself on the pansies and grass in a futile effort to expunge himself of his shame.

Vex watched him plod away around a handful of giggles, mirth covered by her palm. Her fingers smelled of wet grass and, faintly, of blood.

“You’ll have to stop doing that,” she told the door. After a moment Vax materialised, soundless as ever. “Trinket might never talk to you again.”

“He’ll forgive me,” Vax said dismissively. “I didn’t do that complicated knot this time.”

“Yes, because I threatened to cut off your fingers if you tried it again,” Vex said. Vax laughed as he lifted her feet into the air and slid under, bringing them back down to rest on his thighs as he shifted to get comfortable with the seat.

His mouth was a little looser today, the eyes quick to laugh even as he maintained the stoic expression he usually carried. He looked stunning, Vex realised. Like he was wearing very fine and newly made clothes, or had been kissed over and over and each time was just like the magical first.

It wasn’t a strange adjustment at all. Just something Vex had to get used to, and she wondered why that didn’t bother her more than it probably would have.

“You look well rested,” she drawled teasingly.

Vax rolled his eyes and countered with, “How long have you been at this?”

“Oh, several hours now. Soon the forge will be ready to melt down the materials,” she said, which again was easier to say than ‘mother’s cutlery’, or ‘Vax’s high chair’, or ‘Vex’s first tin box that held childhood collections of magpie, wood pigeon, coal finch feathers’. Vex was an expert in ignoring that which was missing by now.

Vax’s lips pursed, because he himself was an expert with noticing things that Vex missed. “I thought the house looked like a tornado had blown through it,” he said, a note of sourness ruining the secret joy dancing around the lines of the eyes.

Vex huffed. She swung her legs off his lap and straightened herself to sit properly, expelling a lingering discomfort in her chest with another dry cough. With her palms gripping the edge of the seat she leaned forward, elbows locked and her back curved. “Whatever helps us against the Briarwoods,” she said, acting nonchalant.

“Yeah, what is de Rolo making anyway?” Vax said, leaning forward too until both twins were at level and could see Percy and Gilmore at work more clearly.

“Arrows for me, and something kind of like a bomb for himself,” she hedged, airily.

Vax glanced at her. “What do you mean ‘kind of like’ a bomb?”

“How’s the forge coming?” Vex called out, and while Vax murmured darkly, “Vex, don’t you dare try to change this subject-”, Percy took the opportunity to pick up his shirt and wipe his sweaty forehead and armpits with it.

“Should be ready in twenty minutes,” Shaun said cheerily, so dishevelled he looked delicious.

Percy grunted in agreement as his whole body contorted and flexed around the swing of his axe. The blade came down sharply and the wood was split clean in half. The muscles in Percy’s back relaxed, exhaustion and relief working its way through his shoulder blades and the tight bunches in his frame. His torso was like a glistening diamond, and there were rosy blotches high on his collarbones and cheeks, like wine stained glass.

Mouth dry, Vex nodded as a high-pitched noise filtered through her thoughts.

When she glanced over at her brother, out of a need for desperate fortification than anything, he looked similarly poleaxed. When he met her eyes they both gave considering hums before turning back and ogled at the two men for a several minutes more, with occasional wolf whistles and provocative comments. All in jest, of course.

Percy obviously became fed up with them because, between decimating a chair and emitting guttural grunts that made Vex’s toes instinctively curl, he called out in an irritated clip, “If you two have quite finished you might want to get lunch sorted for us.”

“Who made you the boss of us?” Vex called out.

He sent them a heated glare that was somewhat made ineffectual by his soaked fringe.

“The voice of bloody starvation and sense,” he snapped back.

Vex laughed and dragged Vax into the kitchen with a swish of her braid and a cheeky wink.

The survivor’s from the morning’s kitchen massacre salvaged for the picnic included: a wicker basket, rusted cutlery treated to a cursory wipe with a rag, spare napkins that were supposed to be saved for special occasions, chipped but functional plates, and a teapot for Gilmore. Vex also made sure that the red and blue mat wasn’t grass stained from their last picnic, and fussily arranged their wine glasses in a neat line inside the basket.

While Vex gathered all of the items, Vax raided their storeroom for bread and other necessities.

“I’m sure he’s charming,” he said, suddenly when he emerged. “But both eyes open, yeah?”

Vex, wine glass in hand, took a step away from the basket and turned to him, slowly.

“What did you say?” she said in Elvish.

Vax’s lips pursed as if in reluctance, but he continued in the same language, with his jaw clenched in determination. “I saw you. Last night. I didn’t mean to see, I was just getting some water for Shaun. I saw you both looking... very cosy together.” There was a trace of bitterness in his tone that made Vex’s fingers clench around the glass. As if he could sense the danger lurking in her hands Vax hurried to add, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing,” Vex hissed before she slammed the glass down and lifted the box of cutlery, shoving it back in the cupboard. 

“You can’t trust him, Vex’ahlia, how many times must I fucking repeat myself? You need to watch him at all times,” Vax barked, both hands running through his hair now in clear agitation.

“Why? Are you too busy drooling all over Shaun’s ass to do it yourself?” She bit back and he sent her a stern face to hide the sting twitching at his lip. She didn’t care; she felt like she had been plunged in an ice bucket she’d been dangling over since she first woke, and it was time for her brother to taste the ice that was eating her inside out.

“It’s a great ass,” Vax said, snarky. “I don’t want to see you get hurt. Besides that; he's a Lord. He’lll fuck us over if we're not careful with him, like they all do. Like they always do.”

“He is _not_ our father,” Vex spat back, feeling something shake in her diaphragm, like she had ingested too much coffee and it was poisoning her, cutting through the ice.

Vax snorted. “Please. You can’t help drawing comparisons.”

Vex’s teeth clenched until something clicked in her jaw. “You're being a complete and utter bastard again.”

Desperate from Vex’s stubbornness, Vax anger lashed out as bared teeth and imploring, wide eyes. He said, loudly, “I'm trying to be sensible! You let that _thing_ into our _home_ -”

Her own eyes wide with disbelief, she yelled back, “He's not a thing he's a _person_!”

Vax slammed his fists onto the kitchen counter and the wood cracked, the sound deafening; effectively quietening them both.

Helplessly, Vex watched livid lines twist around his forearms to his shoulders, which were shaking.

Vax took several short breaths, held each one longer than the last in a visible effort to calm himself. “I’m not being an asshole on purpose,” he tried, hesitant, as if she was still terrifying him, when surely it was the other way around. “If it comes out that way... I apologise. But I’m not going to stand aside and watch my own sister make choices that won’t make her happy. That’s all I want Vex: your happiness.”

Vex let out a dry laugh, which sounded more like a hurt gasp or an exasperated sob. “And I can’t choose that for myself?”

Vax straightened and whirled around to look at her, saying vehemently, “Of _course_ you can. I just think that Percival is a bad choice for you.”

Vex scoffed, her hands reaching for her mouth so her teeth worried at cracked nails. She thought she’d broken that habit years ago, since she first strung her second bow. “Well he’s not even a choice. He’s a distraction.”

Whatever calm Vax had managed to wrestle into shape came unravelled. “Grow up, Vex, you can’t be so ignorant.” he snapped, and Vex almost took a step back. Never in her life had he ever raised his voice to her like that, the sound filling the kitchen with his frustrated fury.

At that moment, Vex realised she was truly in uncharted waters now, and she had no idea how to navigate them. For the first time, she was afraid of her brother. Of the person he had become  without her notice. Afraid of the distance growing between them that inspired the deepest and darkest terror in her, that froze her childhood lungs in the middle of the night as a ripple of bodily memory. Where monsters knocked on her bedroom window between the wind’s screams, and slunk under her bed to pop their heads over the mattress when Vex remembered Mother’s ghost stories. Terrors had always followed Vex into adulthood; here and now was proof of it.

So. Vex did the only thing that she could think of. She drew air into her lungs until they burned with Vax’s palpable anger, then lashed out. “And you were saying that I’ve been drawing comparisons between Percival and our father? You’re such a hypocrite; look in the mirror and tell me who seems more like Syldor.”

Vax reeled as if struck, shoulders springing back. His eyes started to grow very wet. “Least I’m not in denial, or freely give my heart to monsters.”

Vex wiped at her own heated eyes. “You only just got your head out of your ass _last month_ to realise that Shaun has been bleeding for you for _years._ God you can be so- so-”

“So what? What Vex?” Vax demanded, and something shattered on the floor.

As if a spell had been cast, the silence that followed was thunderous.

Both gazed at Vex’s hand, hovering guilty in midair, and at the ruined wine glass spilled over the tiles in a fashion similar to the wild garlic in the Thicket. They glittered accusingly.

“Smothering,” Vex said finally, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny clear mirrors that reflected their devastated eyes. “And I fucking hate it.”

They stared at each other, as if the epiphany that had been swelling between them had bust a dam and drawn their gazes together like gravity.

Wait, no; they gawked. Because Vex had finally shattered the lie that had been building, volcanic, between them for years and now the truth was spiraling out like weak lava wine, uncorked.

Vax cleared his throat, contrite now in a way Vex wished she could undo. “You’ve felt this way for a while.”

Vex shook her head, an instant stammer leaving her lips as a, “N-n-no,” but in her heart of hearts those same monsters under her bed said, _Yes: Always._

“You don’t want to be here. That’s why you’re letting Percival and Gilmore gutter our home.”

“ _No,_ ” Vex protested, more loudly this time.

But Vax stepped back. Then again.

“I never saw it. How-” he said, to himself this time. Then he abruptly turned and walked away.

“Vax. Vax don’t-” Vex tried but she was rooted to the spot, imobile from heart sickness; that fatal disease that killed their mother.

Vax disappeared through their front door without a backwards glance.

Helpless - hopeless, Vex followed until she had both feet on the threshold and her hands were gripping the door frame until her knuckles screamed white.

She barely thought to check on Percy, who was probably saying something pompous and obnoxious to Gilmore, dear Shaun Gilmore, who responded with a shake of his head and laughter throwing his wide shoulders back.

Vex didn’t even hear them, she was so wrapped up in her thoughts, in the horrendous stabbing wound sucking all of the fizzing bubbles that had buoyed her mood that morning. Didn’t hear them, because Vax was stalking silently past them and Trinket, shaking off any of Gilmore’s attempts to grab hold of his arm when he finally noticed Vax.

Percy glanced at the house and his whole posture jerked as he called out her name, just when she registered wet eyelashes and water falling from her chin.

* * *

Vex couldn’t bare to be in the house after that.

After a mumbled excuse about gathering herbs for the picnic, she tore out of the house and ran through the field in her bare feet, squashing pansies and wildflowers as she went. Trinket tried valiantly to follow her, but after ten minutes of non-stop running he let out a mournful wail and dropped back. Ever faithful, he let her tear the distance between them further apart as if it meant nothing, and everything.

When Vex came to a twenty foot tall rock face, a remainder of an ancient earthquake back in the beginning of all things, she roughly pushed aside a patch of blue veined ivy that fell in thick spirals from a high up ledge like a noble woman’s swinging skirts. She exposed a well carved tunnel, darkened by sunlight’s averted gaze, and entered with practised ease. It felt strange not to have Trinket trundle in after her, but it meant she didn’t have to worry about exposing her wet face and bloodshot eyes to him.

The tunnel is short; she had long learned the number of steps it took to get from the entrance to the exit. She emerged outside again to a small enclosure encircled by more rock face, to the sun warming a great slab of basalt and thick tufts of grass poking through. She lifted her head in readiness for the spray of stream-thin waterfall water, falling gently from her left side and into a small pool that gathered weight and clarity by the rock, like a lounging friend waiting for Vex to come back.

The entirety of its watery surface was covered by duckweed and pearly water lillies, utterly still and serene except for the soft splash of the waterfall. It had been that way for nearly thirty years. At least, according to Elena, who had taken a young Lord to this very place in a whirlwind week that defined the lives of four people forever. Who, in the intervening years, marvelled over the parodic attempts of love; love and its cloying stain on such beautiful, holy ground.

Suddenly asthmatic, Vex gasped in the clear air until she was hacking up wet cough after wet cough. Then, in the midst of her exhausted tears, she flung her bow to the ground in childish anger, dropped to her knees, and cried the hardest she’d ever cried since her mother died.

Vex had made many promises to herself over the years.

Take care of her brother; listen to her father; write a letter every month to her mother; feed Trinket his favourite fish when he had especially behaved himself; love her brother even when he was being difficult; hug Gilmore; let Shaun hug her and call her sweetheart and plait her hair.

Ask a pretty girl with red velvet ribbons in her plaits and around her throat if Vex could kiss her; see the sea’s expanse with no land in sight while standing on a ship’s crow’s nest; preserve her mother’s memory even when it hurt too much to walk, even when she woke gasping from nightmares of her mother’s last rattling coughs as her lungs failed her; never to see Syldor again for as long as Vex had eyes.

Love herself above others, even when she hated the skin she wore while she resided in the home she grew up in; buy herself a new bow for her twenty-first birthday (that was four years ago); walk as far as Westrun and beyond; find a young girl called Iris so Vex could take her home without fear of poachers prowling through the woods; help a young Lord return to normal; don’t ever fall in love with said Lord because love is love is pain is love is agony and dying from heartache; pick a rose from the hand of the one she loves truly, and make more promises that she actually intends to keep; tell her future child stories of the life she lived to the fullest, unreservedly, and without regrets. 

Promises only mean so much when the heart is whole enough to think them worthwhile.

With her arms wrapped around her aching chest, and through her burning throat; she whispered another set of promises.

I will stop hiding in this place to cry.

I will let my brother move on and be happy away from me, with Shaun Gilmore.

I will stop crying.

I will save Iris and return Percy to his castle, high in the icy pedestal of noble mountains, and never see him again.

This was Vex’ahlia, licking her wounds.

The water lillies slowly withered and died the longer she sat there, as if smoke-touched, grief-struck. In her haze of fumbled promises, she only noticed the change in her periphery and didn’t pay it much notice.

There had been too many flowers that stared at her in accusation these last two days. Let them judge the soul Vex let loose around them; Vex loved flowers despite their unwavering gaze, and never had to make promises to remind herself of that unconditional regard.

“Hold on Iris,” she told herself. “I’m coming. As soon as I can.”

No one answered, not even the thoughts in her own head.

* * *

Vex had only been gone an hour. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that; how she was able to pack herself away so easily only to slink back like a dog with its tail between its legs just as hastily.

She found Trinket, who gave her hand and knees a slobbery kiss in reverent welcome, careful not to push her over with his concern. She threw her arms around him in apology, and let his rumbles soothe her.

They set off home together, and in no time at all her crooked little cabin emerged like a stubborn rock in the middle of a grassy ocean. The forge was still smoking, its hollowed basin full of molten metal even though the entire construction was absent of its guardians, who had left their tools on a ground devoid of sweat soaked shirts. On a makeshift table Vex vaguely remembered as Mother’s sewing workbench lay rows of wooden sticks, shaped and whittled to resemble arrow shafts. They were laid out neatly like little soldiers off to battle. Shaun and Percy must have gone in for lunch.

Vex’s stomach rumbled. Her hair was still damp, yet as she drew closer she could feel a building, chagrined blush slowly drying the cool drops sitting fat on her temples.

She didn’t want to imagine what Percy and Gilmore must have thought when they saw her run off like that. Or what she would say if Vax had returned before she had. It almost made her turn around and go back to Mother’s Oasis. As it was, the desire to flee didn’t successfully battle her need to march through the door and act like nothing had happened while she fixed herself some lunch.

Shoulders straight, and chin high with her usual coy smile fixed in place, she marched up to the porch stairs.

Only to hear Percy’s voice filter through the closed door, its cadence easily identified by her elven hearing.

She stopped, shy. Then, in a movement she couldn’t explain as non-characteristic to her personal or genetic makeup, she raised herself to the balls of her feet and slinked soundlessly over to press her ear lightly against the front door. Behind her, Trinket sat heavily on the ground with his back to her and stared intently at the forge.

Inside, through layers of grain and knots and dwindling reinforcement, Percy’s mug hit the table.

“Did you pick this colour to match every sodding mug the twins own?” he said. Gilmore laughed, warm as honey. 

“I thought ‘meet me at sunset’ orange suited you very well. I can’t honestly account on whether my travel set will match every interior design of whichever house I happen to stay in. Even I am not that stylish, and believe me: I could run rings around those fancy nobles who strut through Emon like peacocks with metal rods up their rear ends,” Gilmore said smugly. Percy snorted.

“It’s a good colour, didn’t think it was back in fashion,” he mused. “It was very flash in the pan in Whitestone.”

“Don’t I know it. After that we were stuck with glitter monstrosities for six months. They never dried well, and half of Emon’s castle staff and visiting nobles were reportedly coming out in painful rashes,” Gilmore scoffed.

“The pre-coconut brand was always better,” Percy said and Vex had to take a moment to pull away from the door to shake her head in exasperation.

Shaun sighed happily. “It’s so good to finally talk shop around here. Vax and Vex both enjoy nail polish and eyeliner, but I could never get them really interested. Which I don’t mind, of course, but I do have my little pleasures.”

“I thought it was more to dissuade me from finishing my work this afternoon. I can’t chip this,” Percy said, sounding like he was genuinely pouting with displeasure over the idea.

“Oh, please. What we’re working on could stand to have a bit of colour to liven it up. It can’t all be work, work, work while we wait for our dear hosts to return,” Gilmore said, and Vex could imagine the dismissive hand he’d flung out when he adjusted his shirt sleeves back to the crook of his elbows. Since she had first met him, he was forever fussing with his shirt sleeves.

Percy hummed in response. Then Gilmore hummed in interest, questioning. Vex pressed her ear more firmly to the door because even she picked up the thoughtful edge to Percy’s voice, as if he was mulling over something sour.

There was another clink of the mug, and Percy asked, “How long have they been arguing like this?”

Gilmore cleared his throat just as Vex blinked. “Oh, a good year after their mother passed away.”

“That long?” Percy said incredulously.

“Maybe longer. Maybe in even less time. I’m never really sure. It happened; that’s all. It is a small house. But it must be how I see it. Sometimes it feels like they’ve been arguing as long as I’ve known them.” Gilmore sighed and a pause erupted at the same time Vex’s heart started to thrum in her chest. She started to wonder what exactly she was doing here, and how much she wanted to know. Nothing good ever came out of eavesdropping, Mother would say, and it was the distant chime of her voice that almost convinced Vex to withdraw.

But when Percy spoke his hushed tone forced Vex to strain to hear. “How did you meet the twins?”

Gilmore was quiet for several more minutes, enough that it made Vex’s feet hum with irritation.

“I first met Vex’ahlia about a year into their mother’s sickness. She was a customer of mine, traded in animal skins or any magical artifacts she came across in the woods, or anything that suited her fancy. I don’t sell animal skins but there was something about that beautiful, sad face. I took special interest in her, I suppose. I was accused of going easy on her and taking pity. They’re such a prideful pair, which hasn’t really abated with time. That was a rather difficult spot in their lives, as I recall. Medications were a lot more expensive back then; before the council reforms, you see.” He cleared his throat, as if chasing away an irritation. “After some more time, I was able to lend her aid and enough healing potions to earn Vex’s trust. We struck up a friendship and the rest is history, really.”

Vex remembered that time differently. It had been three months away from the worst day of her life; when mother’s health started to decline for real and she was no better than a fish gasping for air on cooling sheets. A particularly lean winter saw Vex with jutting ribs and hollows for eyes try to sell Gilmore rabbit skins, a stolen magical watch, and a cursed lute. Gilmore was, and remains to be, the kindest man Vex has ever known, but even he had to draw the line when dealing with cursed objects. In a fit of temper, she threw the rangy rabbit skins at Gilmore’s head, and promptly burst into tears.

Sherri and Gilmore immediately whisked her into the backroom kitchen, where in its relatively sheltered frame they cooed over her shrunken frame and grief stricken face. They gave her blackcurrant tea, tissues, Gilmore’s shoulder to cry on, and ‘starry starry night’ blue nail polish - expertly applied under Sherri’s firm grip and critical inspection. Under this barrage of care that Vex hadn’t experienced in what felt like years, she spilled her heart into the swimming tea cups and atmospheric ocean of sadness that had swamped the kitchen, kept going until she had expunged the worst of it. Gilmore simply held her tight and demanded she stay the week until she got herself in order, to send a letter to her brother to explain, and throw out the pelts before someone caught fleas. She had laughed through the sensation that hot metal was searing the decayed flesh under her chest, and said yes.

Vex loved Gilmore before he became Vax’s Shaun. Even though history had played out the way it had, nothing of time or space had reduced that regard, she thought, as it swelled into life once again. Under Gilmore’s continued support, reassurance and easy affections over the years, her heart remembered echoes of that special week. It was always immediate and visceral, and rose with the tide to whisper into her heart that this man, yes, he was hers first, he was her best friend beyond anything. She was fucking lucky to have him.

She resolved to enter her home and demand he paint her nails ‘starry starry night’ again; she knew he had it, she slipped it into his travel kit last year for days like this.

“And Vax?” Percy pressed, as if riveted. It broke the peaceful reflection that Gilmore’s words had settled over her like a well loved, contradictory blanket. She remained where she was.

There were several sets of small clinks hitting the table as Gilmore huffed air through his nose. “Ah. Well, once we became friends I would have regular visits every few months or so. On her third trip she brought Vax’ildan. There was a… slight misunderstanding. I don’t think I’ve been the first, or the last person, to have mistaken them for each other. I still get embarrassed thinking about it. But I’ve been a close friend of the family for quite a while, and am very possessive of any secrets or disagreements they battle over. It’s... nice. To feel so trusted.” The words seemed like grapes in Shaun’s mouth, sweet and filling, as if it was the only thing he wanted to taste. Vex was indeed very lucky to have him.

“It is,” Percy said, low, and Vex felt it like a hot knife pressing its blade flat under her breast.

“Even if it means you’re their only go to when things get difficult,” Shaun said in amusement, his gentle tone quieting the flare of embarrassment that danced at the back of Vex’s neck.

Percy said, humour making his own voice wry, “They never thought that things might be easier if they moved out?”

Gilmore laughed. “Yes I suppose that would make things easier. You see Percy, the problem is that you have two very stubborn people playing chicken. Neither of them will make the first move.”

“Why not? Are they that attached to this place?” Percy said, a little dubiously. Vex narrowed her eyes grudgingly at the door.

“Not at all. I mean, look at it,” Shaun said around the metallic tinkle of his wristbands, as if he had gestured. “But the way I see it, Vex is still grieving. She wants to feel close to her mother at all times, and staying in this house is a way to do that. It tends to chafe with her innate desire for adventure; she has been itching to leave for nearly a year now. And Vax, well. He’s wanted to leave since before their mother died. But he loves Vex too much to abandon her. And because he doesn’t want to leave her behind: he stays. Therefore, Vex stays because her brother stays. And so on and so forth. We have a vicious cycle that spins round and round until you get enough friction to cause explosions just like the one we witnessed today.”

Percy hummed. “He doesn’t see it that way does he? Doesn’t he know that Vex would be happier knowing he was happy?”

“Astute one, aren’t you? Been watching the twin’s rather closely?” Gilmore parried, coy. Then he huffed a chuckle, humour turned kind and a little sad. “If only. Thing is, I don’t know what she wants. I don’t even think she does. That’s the problem with wild souls. They live and love when it pleases them, and we can never ask for anything more, or less.”

“Why would anyone?” Percy demanded, surprising Vex enough that feet nearly slipped her off balance. “They should be free to be their best selves. They shouldn’t have to compare themselves to other people, least of all to each other.”

In a fond, almost dreamy tone, Gilmore said, “I agree. Vax is a good man. Not the best of men. But a good one. And that suits me just fine.”

If Percy was satisfied with that cryptic answer he didn’t make any sound that Vex could hear. “And Vex?”

“There are fewer men or women who could ever stand up to her level. Makes it harder to extend oneself, or see the rose-tinted glass for what it is. In any case, the pair’s faults do tend to orbit each other in a rather distressing manner.”

Percy inhaled. “Ah. Two souls split from one,” he realised, which did nothing to aid Vex in her attempts to keep track of wherever this conversation had tail-spinned off to.

“I prefer two souls existing in the same space on parallel wavelengths,” Gilmore replied with some measure of humour, and Vex mentally threw her hand’s up in defeat. “They walk in paths beyond what humans can hope to understand. And they will do it together - until the end of days. Before then,” and here, she could sense Gilmore’s smile even through the wood. “I must be selfish and demand all I can before it’s too late. It’s horrendously hypocritical of me. I’m afraid goodness doesn’t go hand in hand with business.”

“What do they say about mixing business with pleasure?” Percy said, dry as pale sand.

Gilmore laughed. “I knew I liked that brain of yours. Just a little extra advice though, Percival: take care with your business. It doesn’t do well to mix that brain up with duty and rationality. People deserve more than abstract notions of being, or deserving. Hearts, though fragile, and fickle, do have their uses.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Percy said.

Vex, feeling strangely hot, resisted the urge to stick her tongue out at the men through the door. She was desperate to know the geography of their faces, their suggestive hands as they exchanged hearts the way politicians traded silk, through tight mouths and minimal shifts in their chairs.

Having decided that the men had had enough time to gossip, she waited two more minutes before she barged into the house.

“I’m back!” She called out just to watch both of them jump and spill their tea everywhere, the dark liquid soaking into the surface.

Gilmore was the first to recover while Percy furiously mopped up the spills, bright orange nails stark against the dirty cloth he was using. “Vex, dear! Did you get what you needed?”

“Yes, of course.” She strode over to the table and dumped the handful of mugwort and watercress she had torn out of Mother’s Oasis. “These should be perfect with the sandwiches.”

“Just in time for lunch then, excellent.” Shaun extended his hand to indicate the full wicker basket with its cutlery and freshly wrapped sandwiches. His nails were painted a sultry red, messy around the edges, and there was fresh eyeliner cutting through his crow’s feet.

“Oh you shouldn’t have, I was supposed to…” Vex said, frowning against another swell of guilt.

“It’s no trouble,” Percy said, quickly. “None at all.”

She looked at him, at the steady gaze lined with dark kohl that he directed at her. The orange really did suit his blue eyes, she thought. There was nothing judgemental in the set of his mouth. Instead, he seemed more comfortable in his frame, his shoulders were relaxed and he was sitting in the chair almost like a normal person who valued comfort above propriety. It was as if this house had seeped in its warmth into him, or a simple day of toil did wonders for his mood.

Good homes, and their promises of privacy and safety, did that even to the sternest of people. 

“Thank you,” she said to them, softly, with no desire to further protest. 

Percy dipped his head in acknowledgement, a touch bashful.

Vax took that opportunity to clear his throat and Vex whirled around to be confronted with his shy and much subdued form.

“Vax,” she said, something like shy hope clawing out of her heart.

She sagged with relief when Vax offered her a tremulous smile, seemingly weakened by the rage that had quivered through him earlier as a second home does on the self-aware.

“I got herbs for lunch,” she told him with her own reserved smile.

“Watercress. My favourite,” Vax said, without glancing at the messy bundle.

“Of course.”

Vax took a deep breath. “It’s not working anymore, isn’t it?” He said to her, while Gilmore and Percy watched them both very carefully from the table.

Vex felt her face crumble. She bit her lip and remembered her promise not to cry again. “Maybe it’s time for a change. A fresh start,“ she said around a weak cough that covered her trembling mouth; to mask how her mouth had almost said, ‘A fresh home’.

Vax nodded. “Yeah. Yeah sounds about right.” His gaze turned searching and alighted on her damp trouser hems. He considered them for a moment before saying, “Oh, for fucks sake, come here.”

Vex practically ran into his arms. They hugged so tightly it seemed like they molded together, that all the ragged edges between them could fit once more. She snuggled into his shoulder, tired and wain. Vax was warm, soft with it. The hand he carded down her arm was loving and familiar; a quiet hello. Whatever had happened in that kitchen was temporarily forgotten, an unspoken pact to hide away yet another secret. It wouldn’t last long, but Vex was too tired to pull away. There was a faint tremor between his shoulderblades that told her the other half of her soul was in pain. Because of her. She would be the one to comfort him, just like always.

For the first time in three years, it didn’t seem like such a burden.

* * *

 

Work resumed with everyone in better spirits and fuller stomachs than before. They left the picnic blanket and the wicker basket nestled in the fabric’s squares on the ground by the porch stairs, determined to deal with it later. Trinket’s snout verified that the only food left were crumbs as they all prepared themselves to melt down their metal stuffed wheelbarrows. Thanks to Gilmore’s attention to detail and magical strength they soon had a shimmering puddle of reflective silver in the forge. 

Percy took charge with beating the metal, once more shirtless as he hammered down with sure and deliberate strokes. Vex and Vax didn’t wolf whistle again because the intense set of his brows and jaw told of a focus what would be unwise to disarray. Instead they steadily supplied him with metal and tongs when he needed it, Vax setting the moulds that had been made when the twins had needed some time to themselves. Vex also imposed breaks when Percy’s muscles quivered too much and cast her healing spell on him whenever she got the chance, gratified when he smiled his thanks and the red blisters under the enchanted chain disappeared to pale pink welts. Soon there were various pieces of hot metal laid out to cool, and arrowheads with special compartments for blackpowder that would be dealt with later by Percy and Vex.

After several more hours they all were sweating again, hair curling in tight or wacky shapes on each of their heads, and Vex’s cough had worsened to wet puffs that bubbled thickly in her throat. Vax’s hands had developed that erratic twitch that signalled his desire to rub her back and take her into the house to put her to bed. Gilmore was watching her very carefully, eyeliner a little smudged and over pronouncing the dark circles under his eyes.

Percy had just calmly ignored her coughing and directed her when they finally made the explosive arrows. His hands were bigger than hers, and gently touched her fingers to guide them where he wanted. He alway responded to her questions, keen to point out the process and applications and the right sort of tools and methods he would have chosen if he had his workshop. Most of it went right over her head admittedly, but she learned a lot from his quiet musings, from the strong grip running over her thumb, the heat of his eyes as he imparted to her a short lifetime of wisdom. She felt her frame soften around him in turn. Their quiet muttering and push pull of their queries and ideas filled the space between their bookended postures.

It felt natural and comfortable, a straight line of progression that resulted in easy smiles and quick humour when her nail got caught between two pieces of metal, or Percy’s hands skittered to catch a falling piece knocked from the table. The black powder application was a little dicey, but soon they had four explosive arrows ready for detonation, and something that Percy called a ‘pistol’.

“You think the bullet’s will be enough for Pistol?” she asked Percy when he explained the mechanism and the use of the barrel.

“They’ll do fine,” Percy replied, sighting the barrel. “And pistol is what it is. It doesn’t have a name.”

“Do you want to name it?” Vex said, and Percy put the barrel down to look at her.

“Why don’t we wait until it’s finished, and then you can name it,” he said. Vex beamed, the expression hooked on either ends of her mouth and there to stay as they collectively assembled the pieces while Vax and Gilmore kept an eye on the bullet moulds.

Beyond their notice, the sky turned bloody copper and the grass stilled, stiffened by creeping cold.

The gun was almost finished, the entire thing neatly assembled and slotted into place. Vex, soaked through with cold and eager anticipation, started dreaming of hot cocoa and dinner by the fireplace, shoulders smothered by blankets as, flushed with success, they recounted the plan for tomorrow; the final confrontation against the Briarwoods.

Suddenly, there was a deep clang on the table, and the makeshift gun fell to pieces, as if whatever string that had been holding it together had been cut.

Vex looked up at Percy to find his face slack with disbelief. Then he swore loudly and threw the screwdriver in his hand at the forge with such force the resulting clang set her teeth on edge.

“We can fix it,” she said hurriedly.

Percy scrubbed a hand over his eyes and started to pace, boots snapping deep into the soft earth. “See that crack? It means we’ll have to start all over again and make a new one. It’s too cold out to get any proper heat, and we’re just out of firewood. We only had one shot to do this, and it’s fucked.”

“We still have the arrows,” Shaun said, hands out in a placating gesture.

Percy still sent him a filthy glare. “Even with the black powder they wouldn’t do much against a Vampire.”

“And bullets could?” Vax said, hostile.

Slightly apart from them all, Vex stifled another cough, that then erupted into a vicious fit that bent her back double.

“They would have had more force, yes,” Percy said hotly.

Wheezing, Vex’s flailing hand that wasn’t covering her mouth found Gilmore’s arm, whose shoulders and cloak formed a protective barrier around her left side. She coughed several times more and met Gilmore’s wide eyed concern with her own confusion.

“And yet you couldn’t even make one in a day,” Vax said, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Did we just waste all that time for something that might have helped?”

Percy’s frame drew, if possible, tighter. Dark thunder swirled stormily in his eyes. “Because it’s… it’s important, you have no _idea_ how important. It would have solved _everything_.”

Around her coughs, a low, smoke rasped voice hissed _Yes_ in her head, nestled fat between her eyebrows like a migraine _._

“How do you know that?” Vax demanded, teeth exposed in a condescending snarl as he suddenly yelled out. “Hell, why the fuck have we been helping you with this? If it’s as powerful as you’ve said, then maybe its for the best that nothing like it sees the light of day again. I can think of thousands of lives we could spare from bullshit assholes like you inventing things beyond your control, playing with lives like you think you’re actual Gods! No one like you should have that power!”

“ _But I need it!_ ” Percy bellowed, fist slamming down on the table with a resounding crack.

As the table fractured, Vex started to choke. Wet, horrifying noises erupted from her throat, like a tortured victim drowning in vomit. It was constricting and burned her throat. Whatever the wet thing growing like a parasite in her throat was, she spat it out after several more coughs. Black smoke escaped out of her mouth and raised, ominously, into the air.Gilmore grabbed her and encircled his arm around her waist to hold her suddenly heavy weight up. 

“Vex?” Vax said, finally taking notice. “Vex, what’s wrong?”

He hurried over but Vex flew out a hand to ward him off. “No-” she broke off coughing again, horrible wet hacks that seemed to echo around the clearing. Smoke poured from her mouth and stained her hands black, thicker than blood and darker than coal dust, and Vex couldn’t breathe properly.

“Vex,” Gilmore said urgently. “Just breathe, breathe!”

Vex cried out around the smoke.

And then something dark and terrifying scraped her throat raw; split it open like tender meat under a fork. She clasped her hands to her neck, as if scrambling to hold the frayed edges together but the skin was whole if wildly hot. Yet, that uncontained malice ripped its way free from the inside, and the air suddenly crackled with soot that tasted like oil, black liquorice, and soldered metal.

“Percival,” she rasped. Low and cold, and entirely without her consent.

Percy, hand extended towards her, turned whiter than his hair. “No,” he breathed.

“Did you think you could so easily cast me aside, Percival?” the malice said through Vex’s voice. She dry heaved over the oily smoke in her tongue, choked desperately to free herself but it was too powerful; its presence like meat hooks on her throat and lungs. “I, Orthax, will not be so easily dispelled. Arrogant child. You are mine forevermore. I gave you that gift and you throw it away, and try to replicate it with some peasant’s trinkets? I will not accept such disrespect; her life is forfeit.”

Before Vex could prepare herself, the grip on her airways tightened. Her next inhale came out rattley. Black spots fluttered in her vision, deceptively calm even as panic made her unhinged with hysteria.

“Stop,” she managed, through some miracle, to gasp.

Percy grabbed a dagger and pointed it at her.

“You will leave her. _Now_. Her soul does not belong to you,” he snarled.

Her hand cut raised and slashed through the air. “She must pay for her actions. Even she cannot pass my judgement. You should have thought of that before you decided to play with things beyond your comprehension.”

Percy’s hands shook like he was in great pain, but his shoulders remained taut. He may not be as good as a thrower as her brother, but at this distance his aim would be true. Vex wasn’t sure if she wanted that; a dagger in her heart instead of this oily suffocation. “What harm has she done to you?” Percy demanded, eyes widening, imploring almost. “She is an innocent, and I will not let you corrupt her.”

“Let me?” her head snapped back and five sharp points dug into the side of her neck like wicked knives. Vax and Gilmore made aborted motions towards her, stopped by Percy flinging his arm out. Gilmore then leaned close to Vax to whisper something in his ear, possessive hand stroking the back of Vax’s neck.

The malice ignored them to continue, cryptically, with: “She belongs. You do not see it yet but she calls for the Abyss, for death. She seeks the mortal worms there through those accursed forest portals - she will follow them no matter what happens and end up in my realm. I am putting an preemptive end to her future sufferings.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Vax spoke up, face grey with fear.

Her head swung in her brother’s direction and the malice spoke again through a sharp curl splitting her bottom lip open. “Vax’ildan. Champion yet to be. The less you and your sister know the better for me and my kin.”

“This was not our deal,” Percy interrupted, striding forward amid Gilmore’s sudden protests and purple light dancing around his hands. Percy was then yanked back, his squawk of surprise instantly cut off when Vax pressed his dagger to Percy’s jugular.

The malice snarled its displeasure and she jolted forward. “No!”

“Give her back,” Vax said, cold. Dark hatred ignited in his eyes. “Give her back and I won’t kill this son of a bitch. He’s your host isn’t he? You don’t want anything to happen to him because you need him, you filthy fucking parasite. Kill her, and I swear I will kill him, and hunt you down to rip you apart limb by filthy limb. You’ll be begging to make deals with things even worse than me. So let. Her. Go.”

Percy sent her a glare and then closed his eyes. “I’d do what he says if I were you,” he said, airily, even though his fingers clenched into fists around his dagger.

Too scared to even try to talk again, Vex waited with bated breathe.

Then her vision cleared and air was hers. She gasped greedily even as she was forced to say, “My will shall not be contested. The deal was made under blood, under oath of vengeance. Do not disappoint me again, Percival.”

Percy swallowed around Vax’s dagger. “It is not I who tried to change the contract. She is not on the List. Don’t you try to defy _me_.”

She grinned, and it felt like a cruel distortion to the planes of her face. “Then all is not in vain. We have an accord once more.”

The oily smoke in her throat abruptly bubbled and black ichor burst from her tongue. Mouth full, she vomited it out to the ground as her oesophagus contracted. Something large and metallic pressed into the back of her throat, then grew larger and larger, almost begging to be torn out of her mouth. She fell to all fours and heaved, spewing more tar until it puddled around her. It felt endless, her jaw hurt and she didn’t think she’d ever want to eat food again. She had one moment to see her distorted reflection before she heaved for the last time and the intrusion fell out, causing thick splashes on the ground. A smaller one bounced away, causing its own separate ripples.

Still dry heaving, she hissed, “See this last mercy is not wasted, you meddlesome fool. You have not heard the last of me, Percival.”

“See you in hell, Orthax,” Percy said with his own growl, and the sound was animalistic, an unexpected bark that exposed sharpened teeth.

Unexpectedly, the voice turned inward to address her, the words bouncing around her throbbing head. “ _When you and I next meet, Vex’ahlia, we have much to discuss. I know your name now, and you will never hide from me again.”_

The malice’s exit wasn’t as painful as his entrance. Nevertheless, it drained from her neck and chest like an awful curse being sucked out by an unseen leech. It might have been seconds, but Orthax was clever and knew how to prolong her uncertainty, her fear. Her anger, when it sparked, wasn’t enough to fuel the remainder of her energy. When Orthax left completely with his cryptic farewell, her legs buckled and she fell into a dead faint.

When she came to again, grass tickled her ears. In her exhaustion she let herself collapse completely, the back of her head and shoulder blades almost digging into the solid ground. Her throat found cool relief, exposed as it was to the air. The muscles in her forearms and thighs seized up like rubber bands stretching and snapping back. There was still something wet and gurgling in her lungs, but she was too terrified to cough it free. Unable to move, she lay in the pool of black ichor panting and completely drained of energy as she stared up at the purple twilight.

Then, the pool dissipated. It rose into the air like smokey crows and left Vex unsullied on the grass.

Vax released Percy and hurried over. He dropped to the ground and hoisted her shoulders high enough to slide his knees under until she rested comfortably in his lap, drawing her away from the place Orthax had left. At the same time, Gilmore had reached them both and had taken her hands into his warmer ones, trembling fingers touching the pulse in her wrist and throat, checked her eyes, laid the back of his hand over her forehead. Percy prowled the side and made no move to draw closer to her, instead bending down to pick up Orthax’s object.

“Vex, Vex, are you alright?” Vax asked her, shaky. At her soft grunt and thumbs up he rounded on Percy while still supporting Vex’s head. “What the fuck was that, and why did it target Vex?”

“Because she made a deal with me,” Percy said. His voice was cold and rasping, utterly devoid of emotion. Vex managed to turn her head so she could see the harsh lines of his face, the black coals of his eyes burning at her. He refused to pull his gaze away, so she saw every atom of his anger and pain, and only wanted to press her hand to his ankle and rub the fragile bones and cartilage there. “And now whatever that thing was, it has her too.”

Vax snarled and the hand that found Vex’s shoulder tightened. “How did it attack her?”

Gilmore spoke up then, sounding just as shaken as Vax. “The chains. Whatever is preventing you from turning back into that form, Percy, it must have prevented that Orthax creature from reaching you. Instead, it went for the last thing you hexed.” There was a look of terror in his eyes that made his chin weak and the crow’s feet far more pronounced than usual.

Percy let out a frustrated sound that masked the wounded look in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told them all before he redirected his attention back to Vex to say, “I swear. I didn’t even know that he existed. I… I thought he was a dream,” he trailed off, expression lost even with the smooth lines hiding his disbelief.

“You can’t claim all the blame, darling,” Vex groaned. “What the hell did it want?”

“To give me these,” Percy said. He then held his hand out to show a gun similar to the pistol they made earlier, but much more elegant and bulky, and had six barrels instead of one. Clearly, a lot more energy had been applied to it, and while the slight discolourations and curves indicated that it had been worked on over time, there was no doubt that this was the superior gun Percy had lost in Whitestone. In his other hand were a pair of gold rimmed glasses.

“He sent you your gun,” she said, dully.

“Yes, it appears so,” Percy said around a swallow. He flicked his wrist, as if to dispelled the worst of the no longer existing ichor from his glasses, before fixing them in their proper place on his face. It completed him somewhat, the final piece of his mask fully in place and effectively cutting him off from her.

“It used me to send it to you,” she added, more to watch conflict war in the line between his eyebrows and down his nose to rest, sour, on his chin. “As a message?”

Percy blanched, cold expression slowly leeching away. “I don’t know.”

“I’m getting really tired of that sentence,” Vax growled.

“Vax,” Shaun warned. “Things have become far more precarious and we can’t afford to lose our tempers. Vex is fine for now, we have to channel our anger into more positive outlets least it controls us, and prevents the destruction of the Briarwoods.” He wrapped his hand around Vax’s bicep, squeezing affectionately. “Do you understand? We will pull through this. I promise you.”

Vax’s face, so dear to her with Mother’s strong lines and Father’s stubborn mouth, crumpled. “How did you know that stunt would work with that thing?”

Gilmore smiled, ruefully. “I didn’t. But these things need to bind themselves to our world somehow.”

Meanwhile on the ground, Vex moved onto her elbows and slapped at her brother’s hands when he attempted to push her back down. “I want to see it,” she demanded, gaze fixed on Percy. Somehow, he hadn’t escaped the confrontation untouched either. Soot had started to stain around his left eye, and some dust drew harsh lines on his cheekbones and on either side of his nose. His mouth was bloodless, the colour leached to migrate into his harsh blue eyes. When he considered her it was like he was looking at a different person, so Vex snarled, “Let me see it, Percival.”

Wordless, he adjusted his hold on the gun and offered it grip first to her. He bent at the waist to aid her, and with little difficulty she shifted up to grab hold of it. His posture was rigid, a mockery of a bow. When she took the gun his fingers trailed along the barrels until it was out of reach.

She quickly cradled it to her chest, both hands occupied as she carefully let her own fingers search along its lines and dips. Its six barrels gleamed dully without any traces of soot, and she could hardly believe that something of its size had been pushed through her mouth. The handle was a light brown and when she aimed the gun at her chimney she could see where Percy’s fingers had previously dug sweaty grooves. It was heavier than she expected, the metal bitingly cold. Pointing it at the sloppy brick and mortar, she could imagine blowing it into a thousand shards with the blackpowder she knew was packed tightly into the gun. The rush accompanying the thought was both unexpected and heady.

Vax and Gilmore watched her closely; unmoving, and a little wide eyed.

At the tail end of her inspection she noticed names etched into each barrel. She adjusted her aim so the barrels pointed towards the sky and peered closely. On two barrels were names she recognised, the rest unknown. The font on the metal was swift, decisive even as they swam fuzzily. She blinked, then blinked again. Between the momentary flickers of darkness, the font had changed to resemble her handwriting, similar to the scribbled notes to her mother before she went off hunting years ago.

“What is this?” she demanded, sick to her core.

Percy swallowed but he refused to look away, eyes boring into hers. “It’s a list containing the names of the people who destroyed my family. These are the people I have sworn to kill.”

She yanked her gaze away, only to be confronted by her musing fingers tracing the name _Dr. Ripley._ “So many,” she said to herself.

“It’s a list,” Percy reiterated and, somehow, that was enough to appease Vex. She thrust the List in his direction, suddenly refusing the very sight or touch of it. As if he had been waiting for the chance, Percy snatched it from her hands and backed away.

Vex struggled to her feet. Again she slapped her brothers and now Gilmore’s hands away. They drew back with pursed mouths and furrowed brows.

“Sister, your hand,” Vax murmured, making yet another aborted movement to touch her.

“It’s fine, it’ll wash off,” Vex told them with a bright smile before retreating inside without seeing anyone’s reactions.

On the porch, however, she let herself stare down at her left hand, at the spiderwebbed black sprawl working its way up her arm and staining her veins and the skin around them dark grey. Here and there she could see tiny bubbles of black ichor popping sluggishly. Vex closed her hand into a fist, and tried to ignore the unsettled blackness that had remerged in her stomach; a smug shudder that warned her that it had never left. Hexes should never be so easily trifled with, and Vex had been a fool to believe otherwise.

“Oh, what have I done,” Vex sighed to herself.

Orthax’s ominous touch didn’t wash off at all.

* * *

Night crept closed, a dark block beyond the porch’s frame. They conserved their oil lamps by extinguishing the flames and bringing them indoors, relying on the pitiful firelight crackling over a very small pile of wood and coal to illuminate the room.

A dirty sheet had been spread over the living room table with all the weapons laid out like they had a position of honour. In the middle lay Percy’s gun, shining weakly with flame and freshly smudged soot. Throughout dinner Vex had been unable to tear her eyes away from it for long, kept careful watch in case this new interloper tried to spit out smoke and rise into the air to shoot them all dead. They agreed to plan the confrontation with the Briarwoods at dawn, again.

When she retired to her room it was a flurried production of tight hugs from Gilmore and Vax, and a swift if considering nod from Percy. Trinket, however, positioned himself near her bedroom door and settled for the night with his snout resting on his folded paws, glaring sternly at the front door. She gave him an affectionate ear scratch as she passed, dropping his favourite blanket over his shoulders.

Lying in her bed, Vex ran her hands through the contours of sheets, fingers dipping between the valleys and circumferences. They were white; how soon would it be until even her stained fingers streaked oily paint into the fine fabric, detailing the brief history of smoke monsters and the destinies they were born into. Was she mistaken to take a destined beast out of its forest homeland? Was Percy always meant to be a beast, as punishment for making a deal with a Demon? How was that justice.

She was a ranger. A calling she adopted and shaped into her own destiny; yes, she was that arrogant to assume that all beasts could be tamed under her power. See: one such beast flitted behind her door, toes blocking out light and a rustling sleepshirt breaking the disquieting hum of the night air. Like a ghost he hovered, waiting for her permission to enter.

If her brief and horrific moment in Orthax’s brain had taught her anything, it was that men like Percy didn’t let things go. His presence behind the threshold warned as much. She could so easily let him in, she had a dagger tucked under her pillow folds. She could slit his throat and watch as Orthax emerged, teeth biting and ensnaring her wrists; claiming her as his next host while a dying Percy clutched at his heart and watched her be consumed. Betrayal written deep in his blackened heart flesh, in the curve of his eyelashes as they closed one last time.

“ _I'm not going to kill you, that's not what I want from this,_ ” she had laughed yesterday.

“ _You will_ ,” he had replied; sure of her even then.

It would be so easy. So easy, to cave into the dark oil pit Orthax left behind in her soul.

“Stupid,” she scolded herself, angry at her thoughts, before blowing the candle out and plunging herself into the dry, dark air.

Barely a minute stretched out when light flared as the door cracked open.

In hesitant shuffles, Percy entered and closed the door. The doorknob rattled for a few seconds until he quickly pulled his hand away.

Vex lay still on the bed. In her sleepshirt and tight pants, braid loose under her head, and hips to toes covered by her sheets, she imagined her appearance as vulnerable tranquility. One wrong move, and Percy would see the veneer snap as she lunged to face and slay her attacker, like she should have done back in the Ivyheart Thicket a mere day ago.

For several tense minutes, their exhales were one sound, matched even now in the gloom.

Then, possessed by a notion even she couldn’t name, she whispered, “Percy?” and the sound was the equivalent of a cup splintering on tiles.

The dark left her unprepared for his sudden collapse. He climbed onto her bed, forearms nearly brushing her legs, and sank into the mattress with a burst of kinetic energy that left her feeling a little stunned with surprise. The feeling prickled between her breasts and under her ribs, intensifying when he let out a gratified sigh.

Then he curled into a ball at the foot of her bed like Trinket did as a cub, and rubbed his forehead into the sheets until it bumped her calf. He flinched back for a second then, when she didn’t respond except to gape unseen at him, he resettled with another sigh that vibrated with contentment.

Vex allowed herself two minutes to recover before she cleared her throat, pointedly.

Percy’s long eyelashes fluttered, small and brief sensations on her skin, and small whimpers escaped as he pressed his nose further into her calf. “I know this is a severe breach of personal boundaries, and seems wildly out of character. I’ll apologise later. Right now, I’m exhausted.”

“And I’m not?” She said as she hefted herself up and away from him to better reach her candle. She struck the match and there was faint light again. Percy’s sharp nose cast deceptive shadows on his soft mouth, yet his curled, foetal shape made him look years younger. His glasses were missing. She suddenly realised that this was his version of grovelling, the many layers of reluctant need and humility exposed to her as an apology. The prickling in her chest was now a small riot of leaf piles caught up in the wind.

An eye cracked open and Percy regarded her with trepidation and curiosity, swallowing her illuminated frame. “You’re angry with me.”

“No, not angry,” she admitted, fixing him a stern look as she settled back to her previous position. “Scared. Did Orthax really mean all those things he said? About the portals into the Abyss?”

Percy cleared his throat, shifting away from her in discomfort. Vex’s heart plunged down with dread, and a faint tang of betrayal slid sour under her tongue. “Orthax deals in deceit and manipulations. He was trying to distract us, pit us against each other. I wouldn’t take stock in anything he said.”

“Is that why you told me not to trust you? Because of him, or because you are an extension of him?” she said, nastily, to her ceiling. She won the desired effect from him; his full bodied flinch shook the mattress and dislodged his touch from her leg. He sat up, a sudden jerk that reminded her of a spooked animal about to flee, his unprotected back exposed to her..

“I deserved that,” he said after an awful silence settled between them.

Vex exhaled guiltily. “No, you didn’t. That was cruel, and I’m sorry,” she said.

“Cruel, but true,” Percy corrected, glancing at her over his shoulder. “I did tell you not to trust me. You did it anyway.”

“Of course I did,” she said, and as proof she pulled back the blanket covering the sheets on the opposite side of the bed and patted the free space.

Percy held himself very still for a moment. Then, as if his joints were rusty mechanical parts clanking into motion, he slowly unfolded his stiff posture to crawl into the offered space.

“You still believe me too,” he mused, as he got himself settled on his back with the blanket bunched over his stomach, hips and legs. “I must admit, I didn’t expect it. Orthax has a way of bending truths and attacking at different angles to hit your weakest points.”

Vex snorted. “Like you’re such an expert on him. You didn’t even know he existed until today.”

“True,” Percy said, abashed. “But still, he is a formidable foe and wordsmith. It’s hard to tell if he even meant what he said,” he added, and Vex realised that he was thinking about Orthax’s promise.

She rolled over until she could see his profile. “What was all that about then? Last night. And then again this morning? All those things you said. Did you even mean them?” He was watching her and she added, a little desperately through the blossoming irritation taking root in her stomach. “What was _your_ angle?”

“You’re full of unexpected questions tonight,” he said, playful. However lines emerged in rueful patterns around his mouth and eyes.

“And you’re avoiding,” she said, tone sharp even as her smile matched his lighthearted facade.

“I’m not. I’m just making an observation. I seem to confuse a lot of matters for you,” he replied, much more honestly. There was a lilt, an upwards curve in his vowels, like he was curious and apologetic all at once. His hips shifted in tight twists as if to unseat an unsettling knot in his lower back. The shirt bunched around his ribs, impeding his movement a little.

“And now you’re being arrogant. You’re lucky I’m so lenient with you,” she replied around bared teeth. His answering smirk was amused, barely covering the respect shining through.

After a moment, Percy broke their interlocked gazes to watch his hand trace the bedspread.

“I was never much of a liar when my family was… alive. It never interested me much, that personality trait was trained into my older siblings. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have much of a talent for it. There was always that potential to lie, to manipulate. The thing is, I can’t seem to lie in this house. It’s an experiment in honesty, really, that I can’t seem to shake off. These walls,” he looked around, espression frank and considering. “They inspire safety. And bring to the forefront a young boy whose has lain forgotten for a long time. Orthax can’t touch that, or the time that I’ve spent here. It’s a credit to its owners that I feel that way. I guess I wanted to appreciate that: you,” he added shyly.

It was both an answer and not one. Percy may claim that he wasn’t a liar within her home, but he knew enough about compliments and shrouding truths with other truths to get away with it. Vex couldn’t help being impressed with the shallow misdirection, despite its failure to deceive her.

“My Mother always encouraged honesty. Especially when Vax and I were growing up and fought. The problem was my Father. We stayed with him in Syngorn for a while,” she explained, letting Percy deduce what he wished from that. “And it just taught us to cheat, steal, lie. So I always know a liar when I see one, and Vax always knows how to evade when he needs to, when he senses danger especially. But you’d already guessed that.”

“I had a fair idea,” Percy said gently, and if he was chagrined he successfully hid it from her. 

“Life there wasn’t good, I will admit that much to you. Affection was… hard to come by. Approval even more difficult. When you’re a half-elf in a city of elves, well, it was always made apparent to us what they thought. What was wanted from us. We came back here, eventually. Mother was so happy to see us. I still think about her face that day, her blue apron, her grey hair. I think it was the happiest I ever saw her.” Her mouth drooped into the familiar, drained despair that appeared when her periphery gaze caught her reflection on any given day. She pressed her face into the bed covers.

“Do you _see_?” She said.

“I do.”

“Good,” she said, harshly satisfied, into the fabric.

“She sounds like a wonderful woman,” Percy offered after some seconds.

Vex freed her nose and mouth, expression tightly controlled. “She was. She believed in me before anyone else did. Even before my brother,” she confessed around a lump in her throat.

“Mother’s do have that knack,” Percy rasped. They smiled at each other, watery, and connected by a string of acknowledgement, of shared grief. Vex then straightened, lifting herself onto her elbow so she could better face him.

“I'm so sorry about your family, Percy,” she blurted out. The noise he made, as he pushed out air from his lungs, sounded like an injured balloon. “I don't think anyone's said that to you yet. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what that must be like for you. And then you became the beast. And had to deal with us. You’ve apologised for threatening me, but I don’t think I’ve done the same, and honestly? The thought that I’ve been cruel to you is just intolerable. I'm so sorry,” she finished, a little lamely.

There was a stilted pause, as embarrassment crawled uncomfortably in her stomach.

Percy then leaned over and kissed her forehead. It was the most unremarkable, wholly unexpected gesture of comfort she had ever received; Vex’s heart soared in her chest and tears stung in her closed eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“Thank you,” she said, equally quiet. For what she didn’t know, but it seemed enough because Percy let out a bashful sigh and squirrelled back to the other side of the bed.

Moment closed like a gate had been slammed shut, Vex settled on her back and waited for sleep to take over.

It was in vain. Sleepiness was dispelled when she sensed Percy, at her side, wrestle with internal demons. She read it in the silent racket that rippled in the air, in the fist clenching into the mattress, in the audible click of throat working against words. She felt tension mount in her spine, shooting down to her fingers until they twitched for her bow.

When Percy spoke it was like the gates had been blown wide open with concussive force. “This may be out of the blue, but I feel like it might clear some of the damage I’ve done to you. I can offer you a home.

“It’s not much; just a minor castle in the outskirts of Whitestone's centre. It hasn’t been inhabited since its last occupants decided to take a trip South and I got rid of their main followers. It - it needs a lot of work, I’m afraid. But it’s still standing, and the city is right next to a forest I think you'd love to roam. And it’s yours. Whenever you need it: take it. Whether I’m alive or dead; you’re always welcome to it. I don’t have a lot of use for it, and I’d rather it go to someone, at least, and in case anything happens to me tomorrow. Someone I trust.”

“I’m probably the only one you trust,” she said, breathless into the gloom as she turned her head to him once more, hardly daring to believe.

Percy’s smile was luminous against the blue pillow; achingly soft and fond and her heart caught in her throat. “That’s fair. Will you accept it?”

She studied the nervous journey of index finger to nose, and felt the physical sensation of her heart closing over that endearing motion; as a clam clutches and fussily puts away a pearl, possessive.

“Are you sure about this? It’s… Whitestone,” she said, lamely. Her fingers dug into the sheets because she needed something to hold onto, some sort of anchor that assured her that her home was still here, as rickety and pulled at the seams it was.

She might as well have tried to grasp a cloud.

“Since the moment I touched your hand,” Percy confessed, so solemn it made her chest hurt.

It was utterly unfair. There Percy was, with his head on her pillows and strong shoulders under her mother’s blankets; his mouth was weak and pliable, begging to be ravished; his broad, rough hands were inches from her; he squinted at her in the dark as if he would be lost if he couldn’t see her. Vex had never wanted anyone more. No one had ever come close.

She had to lift her head to stare at the ceiling, taking a couple of fortifying breaths or else she would never come out of this vacuum of hot desire with her dignity in check.

“I’m doing it again, aren’t I? Making you uncomfortable,” Percy said, sounding regretful. His weight shifted and the bed dipped as Percy made to get up and leave.

She didn’t think. Her hand snapped out and grabbed his forearm.

In her panic she underestimated her strength and Percy was suddenly tumbling back onto bed, limbs flailing as he careened into her. With a dexterity she didn’t think he had left in him after the day’s work, he caught himself right before he landed on top of her.

They both breathed heavily, more out of surprise than anything else.

His forearms bracketed her, hands hovering close to her shoulders and hair. His knee pressed into the outside of her thigh and another was very careful not to touch her left knee. There was something smouldering around his eyes, like white hot coal under a firepan, that had no idea where to go except to stare in bewilderment at her.

“Stay,” she whispered.

“Ok,” he replied, tone matching hers.

“It’s fine. It’s just… different. You surprise me. You have surprised me,” she added, as if that made a difference. In retrospect, it did.

“In all honesty, Vex’ahlia,” he said emphatically. “The feeling is _entirely_ mutual.”

His forearm was thick in her hand, tightly corded with muscle.

“Sorry,” she said, letting go.

“It’s fine,” he said after a moment. He swallowed as if chasing down nerves, or more words, or bile for all Vex knew. When he pulled away it was with deliberate care that could be mistaken for lingering disappointment. But Vex refused to think like that.

“It’s fine,” he repeated, and Vex hummed in agreement.

“The Briarwoods are tomorrow,” she said, because she didn’t have anything else to say. Percy’s apology, her confessions, and Whitestone settling between them as smoke stains the inside of a chimney.

Despite the fact that Percy’s face was angled away from her, Percy’s jaw clenched. “Yes. A rather long day to look forward to.”

“We’ll still see the end of it,” she vowed, feeling her head sink deeper into her pillow. “We’re prepared for it, as unexpected some of that preparation was. We’ll defeat them, rescue Iris, find out what’s happening to the Thicket, and you’ll be free to live your life again where you belong.”

Percy grunted, and Vex took that as her cue to fall asleep.

However, nestled between her yawn and stolen consciousness, Percy whispered, “I don’t think I can control where I belong anymore.”

* * *

In hindsight, Vex shouldn’t have accepted how simple everything was in those last few stolen moments. Percy was, as ever, a distracting opponent and she shouldn’t have let her guard down by promises of castles.

“Percy?” She called out when she emerged from her room, rubbing at her tired eyes and drawing her lace shawl closer to her breast.

Casting her gaze around, she noticed that the front door was banging against the frame, caught in the puffed bursts of morning’s fresh air. The sofa was empty, the blankets folded neatly once again, and there were some screws and fillings littering the corners of the sofa feet, missed in Percy’s hurry to tidy up after himself. The fire had long grown cold.

On the table was a row of freshly made arrows unlike the ones she and Percy made yesterday, and two sets of shining daggers. The List and the freshly made bullets were gone. The unfamiliar gurgle of pipes told her that the sink was in working order, and the door had new hinges to replace the rusting ones.

When she opened the cutlery drawer several days later, she counted them all and found none had gone missing, and had been beaten into new, pristine shapes that would be suitable for fancy occasions.

Lastly; on the kitchen table there was a neatly folded note, with practical if fussy script scrawling her name onto one corner.

She barely had time to pick it up and read it before Vax crashed through the door, pink faced, bare chested and furious as he marched over to her saying, “You’ll never guess what that arrogant bastard has done now.”

* * *

End of Part Three.


	4. Part Four: The Ivyheart Thicket II

Rain threatened. 

The Ivyheart Thicket was the centre of a storm unlike Vex had ever seen before. As she, Vax and Shaun approached the Thicket’s edge, she saw that the sparse bluebells and pansies nestled between tree trunks had turned the colour of ash, and moss thickened bark peeled away like gaping wounds. The inner bark was threaded with silver grey, and black leaves fell to the ground like raven feathers, lying in thick clumps like a folded cape. It was as if some brutal battle had happened and they had just arrived to witness its abandoned destruction. 

Vex swallowed and tightened her grip on her bow when Trinket rubbed his head reassuringly against her leg. 

“I knew he was up to something.” Vax had said earlier, back at their house they were all still reeling from Percy's abrupt departure. 

He winced when Gilmore tired to apply some healing spells to his bruised head, despite Shaun’s painstakingly slow and gentle motions. The stretch of the injury acted as a reminder for Vex of Percy’s hastiness, his cleverness made violent. “He wasn't shifty at all last night. He was almost too compliant, especially after all that shit with that Orthax demon. So I woke up early and waited for him, but it was like he knew I’d be up. Fooled me with his pretty words and stupid charm. Then when my back was turned the fucker hit me round the head and knocked me out. I'm sorry Vex, but when I woke he was hours gone.”

“Did he say anything?” She had demanded around something that felt very much like rage fuelled grief swarming in her chest. 

Vax looked up at Gilmore, his eyes tracing the hands that were touching him so lovingly. “He said: don't come after me, or you'll regret it,” Vax said shortly. He then glanced at her, resignation making him decades older than he was. “You're still going after him aren't you?”

Vex stood and strode to the fireplace to wrench out one of the crumbling bricks and expose the spell scroll she had safely hidden when Percy had lain unconscious the other day.

Hands clenched at her sides, Vex only said, “Are you coming with me?” 

Now, the Thicket was a demonic jungle they had no desire to get lost in. 

“Things have become far worse than we ever imagined,” Gilmore said thickly. When Vex glanced at him, she witnessed Vax capturing Gilmore’s hand and raising it to his lips, kissing a fat ring with a black stone shining bright. Gilmore took a shaky breath and fussed with his sleeves, bashful and blushing, gratitude shining out of a confident smirk. “Not everything can be kissed away, my love.” 

“Now or never,” Vax said to Vex after he winked at Gilmore. “Lead the way, sister.”

They set off as one down the unbeaten path. The atmosphere had changed vastly from the last time Vex had traversed it. Gloom had settled more fully in everything they saw, the fog now a thick yellow and smelling damp; of rotten eggs and puss infected wounds. The moss had shrunken into blackened, withered clumps and the wild garlic had also turned to ash. It was like looking at everything in black and various shades of grey, with Vex and Gilmore’s clothes the only spots of colour in the Thicket’s ash ridden corpse. The smell of sulphur and burnt wood was stronger than ever; Vex could taste it at the back of her throat. 

Merely ten minutes away from where Vex had first encountered Percy in his beast form, the black moss had completely swallowed the trees and they all loomed threateningly overhead. The roots still emerged from the fog, their humanoid shapes still as strange and hideously abnormal as before. But this time, they had grown from the size of a hand to the length of Vex’s arm. They were the colour and texture of oil and their faces were fully defined and snarling, woody teeth bared and threatening to snap hold of any curious finger that strayed its way. Their limbs were also holding half developed weapons, a large range of spears and swords and warhammers. To Vex’s mind, a small army was amassing, and growing larger through some unknown, deadly power. Less like a parodic gathering, and more like a legitimate threat.

“How are we going to find Percy in all this?” Vax said, voice echoing as if it bounced around a bottomless pit. The hair on the back of Vex’s neck stood up.

“Oh, I’m sure it won’t be that difficult,” she said as wild garlic turned to dust under her steps. It rose like a ghost, shifting and formless, yet undeniably present. 

A guttural roar split the air and shook the last of the black leaves off their branches, the ghosts quickly dispersing as the dark feathers fluttered down.

“Found him,” they all said, Trinket letting out an affirmative grunt as they broke into a run.

They crashed through the trees, kicking up ash and black leaves and dust as they went, their waists enveloped by the fog, and it was like wading through a monochrome battlefield they had never encountered before.

Vex lead the charge, heart thrumming as deja vu mixed in with mounting anxiety and the pitfall of dread in her stomach. In the space of minutes, worst case scenario after worst case scenario rocketed through her brain, their voracity disabling any plans she made as her thighs burned and foot after foot thumped down. At the back of her mind, bitterness chided her for only concentrating on Percy when Iris was so close. Whether he was dead. Whether the Briarwoods had gotten him. That she was rushing headlong into a trap without proper preparation or sense. Could Percy really mean that much to her that she became as reckless as her brother? As mindless as a Lord with his tunnel vision and desperate desire for an end game goal, allies and enemy alike left bleeding in the dust.

Vex always knew she was greedy. It wasn’t until that startling moment running through a crumbling forest that her mind revisited that fatal flaw again, as she had done for nearly ten years and Syldor had spat it out at her like an iron brand. She realised that she had used Iris, and the potential to save her, to be utterly and wholly selfless for once, to fix that damnable fault running through her veins like Orthax’s oily taint. To purge her heart of her father’s words that still cut deep into the foundations of Mother’s cabin, yet another ghost that followed Elaina to her afterlife, and to her earthy grave that Vax and Vex dug together under the cabin’s floorboards, where they nestled her in blankets and fine silk and pansies. In her favourite dress, to rest. 

Mother’s ghost stories rarely had heroes to save the day. When Vex, at eight, had asked why, Mother had tapped her nose and said, “Because heroes are someone brave, my champion. Someone selfless, with an open heart and diamonds in their veins. It’s in them, always, to help people. The ones yet to come in my stories haven’t grown up yet. They need to learn the monster’s weakness. That there are always people who need to be saved, and that we shouldn’t pity them.” 

Vex always wanted to be a hero - always wanted to be what Mother believed she could become. If Percy wasn’t a good villain, then greedy and selfish Vex’ahlia was just as tragically inept to be a hero; stumbling off the path into an unknown battlefield of regrets, unable to see where she was supposed to end up in this crazy fairy tale called life. 

She wasn’t sure what her mother, Vax, Gilmore, and Percy saw in her, and the expectation to be confronted with this fantasy Vex in the mirror haunted her every morning.

This time, Vex promised, she would make the right choices, and under her terms. 

As another clearing jolted into view, the sight of a large and familiar figure slumped at a tree base sent them skidding to a halt.

Percy was crouched on the ground and shirtless once again. He was gripping his head with both hands, and the line of his spine was split open by white fur, framed by bloody flesh. The tips of his ears were lengthening and hairy, and there were large fangs protruding from his thickened jaw. At their noisy entrance, their pants cutting through his harsh moans of pain, he snapped around to face them. His eyes were once more electric blue, and smoking ominously.

Vex let out a cry of shock, and Percy’s eyes slammed shut as he let out another guttural scream, the sound ripping painfully at his vocal chords. He shook so hard he looked like he was having a seizure.

On the ground near him was the enchanted chain. One of its links was shorn into two and tossed into the ash like a decapitated snake. The List lay right next to it, as well as Vax’s shirt; neatly folded with his glasses on top. 

“Percy,” Vex said, tone full of dread. “Oh god, no.”

“What is it, what’s happening?” Gilmore demanded, decisively rolling up his sleeves as he stared in horror at the slow transformation Percy was suffering.

“He’s turning back into the beast,” she breathed. “The chain must have come off. We need to put it back on him.”

As she started for it, however, Percy swung in her direction and spat out, “Don’t you dare. Leave it, Vex!”

“What - Percy, I’m trying to help you!” She said, incredulous. But Percy shook his head, then clutched it as if tormented by a migraine. 

“It’s the… only way,” he rasped, mouth choking on language. “To defeat them. No guns. No more. By my hands or nothing else. Please, don’t interfere, Vex.”

“Like bloody hell I will,” she snapped, marching forward once again. “Since when have I ever listened to your demands. I’m not leaving you to sacrifice your humanity, not like this Percival.”

“You’ve no - no  _ choice _ ,” he snarled at her. The hunch of his shoulders and trembling legs reminded Vex of a cornered rabbit desperate to flee, but she refused to let him run away again. 

“You have so much apologising to do Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo the Third,” she said threateningly. “You try to tie up loose ends with pretty words and your stupid castle, and expect me to be happy with that? Don’t you dare get out of our deal through some convoluted  _ loophole _ .”

She loomed over him and he stared, open mouthed and panting, at her furious expression. His brow was now cracking and morphing into that white, hooked mask she had first seen on the beast. And yet, even in the middle of his beastial transformation, he still looked at her with barely concealed respect and adoration with very human eyes, pleading. 

He stood to meet her on shaky limbs. 

His hands vibrated violently, the knuckles cracked sickeningly as they grew into lethal claws, but he jerk forward to carefully push her back.

“You can’t stop this,” he gagged, expression mournful but resolute. Then he doubled over to yell as something in his back fractured. Trinket growled, hackles raised as he glanced between Percy and Vex, uncertain with whether he needed to be attacking an established ally, or the beast he still remembered. 

“Percy- Percival-  _ Percy _ !” Vex yelled, making desperate grabs for his shoulders, his neck, his upper arms as if she could hold him in place. As if she could root him down into the ground where he couldn’t hurt anyone, or return him to his human form with her touch alone. “Percy, calm down it’s alright. You can control this, I know you can.”

He reared back, lifting his arms in a gesture of surrender. He held his hands as far away from her as possible. “Stay back, Vex, I bloody mean it!” 

“Vex, don’t -” Vax lurched forward to yank her away, but she shrugged him off angrily.

“I’ve got this, I’ve got this Vax. Just go and scout around. We need to keep an eye on whether the Briarwoods are nearby. Go,  _ go _ ,” she barked when he hesitated. 

Jaw clenching, he sent her a withering glare before he disappeared into the trees. Before he left he commanded Gilmore, “Keep an eye on them,” and drew his dagger out. 

“Is there anything we can do with the chain?” She said to Gilmore as she started to stalk after Percy. He stumbled away from her, desperate to protect her from his vicious transformation, and helpless to stop her determination. Soon he was backing himself into the reach of several trees, right where she wanted him. 

“Distract him for me and we’ll see,” Gilmore called back.

“Fine by me,” she said as she reached out to cup Percy’s face in her hands. He made agonised whimpers of protests, tried to yank away from her but he was sobbing brokenly now and his limbs were weak with pain and exhaustion. Halfway through his struggles he gave into her caress and nuzzled into her palms helplessly, tears leaking out as he gazed, torn, at her eyes and face. 

She took a deep breath and rest her forehead against his. “You can beat this, Percy. I believe in you. Now you’re going to have to start believing in me too.”

Before she could think about it, she crushed their mouths together, holding onto his face as if her very life depended on it. 

The only reaction he gave was his muffled sound of shock. 

Until it wasn't. Until he suddenly reacted and kissed her back like a man starved. He picked her up until she was fully in his arms, mindful of his claws. Soon sharp points in her back became fumbling fingers feeling her ribs arch and contract along his hands. Human teeth soon nipped at her lips, and stubble burned her chin. What was meant to be a chaste kiss turned consuming as she experienced the tangible proof of Percy becoming human again. She kissed him fiercely, rose to her toes to slot their mouths together more fully, and chase the taste of him that wasn’t lined with smoke or sulphur. When he gasped, she swallowed the sounds and rush of air until they became an essential part of her airways. 

For long, passion fueled moments, Vex pushed the rest of the world to the back of her mind and took all that she wanted (and more) from the only man she truly felt like she needed more than grass between her toes, and the tickle of fletch curling around her thumb.

When they broke apart she said, “Fairytales are full of shit.” Her forehead was still pressed to his and she had her eyes closed to better preserve the dwindling moment, speeding away like an arrow into the ash coated horizon. She was having trouble breathing, dizzy with the hot swell of affection turning volcanic in her stomach.

Vex opened her eyes and found that he'd been watching her the whole time. His eyes are so soft she imagined them melting, and he touched her as if he never wanted to let go. Moisture was a light film over his eyelashes.

“Yes,” he said, wrecked. “I’d rather prefer the real thing.” 

There was a snip as Gilmore secured the chain back on Percy’s leg with a conjured, makeshift padlock. He danced back awkwardly, pretending not to see how tightly pressed together their bodies were. 

Sadly, the damage was done, and they pulled away. 

However, she still caught Percy’s aborted movement in her direction, telegraphing an intense desire to draw her back into his arms. Yet the furrow in his brow quietly said ‘no, not for you’ to himself, masks slipping back into place even as his expression carried sincere regret.

And that was it; Vex was doomed. She couldn't go back now, couldn’t even pretend. 

The circumference of her heart had been mapped and split open for everyone to see now, and it had been that way since the very beginning, since she tried to bargain a deal with a monster and ended up swindled like an amateur. She had no clue how she thought she could have ever avoided it. 

“Keep a better hold of that gun,” she said to Percy, suddenly furious with everything. “You don’t get off such responsibility that easily, not after all we’ve gone through just to make another like that. Use it to kill the Briarwoods today, and maybe I might find it in myself to forgive you.”

Percy, eyes molten and expression fierce in its haughty pride, nodded. “As you command it; so it shall be.”

Unable to tell if he was mocking her, she narrowed her eyes threateningly at him before jerking her head at Trinket to follow her. She marched past Gilmore without a backward glance, feeling asthmatic as she trusted them to follow her lead.

* * *

Vax’s face was unreadable when she found him sitting on a high branch a fair distance away from the clearing. “Everything alright now?” He said. “Percy ok?” 

“He’s fine. All enchanted up now,” she said, sounding high-pitched even to her ears.

A raised brow transformed his face into a disbelieving arch. He opened his mouth but then Gilmore and Percy arrived, and whatever he was going to say was lost.

Percy, once more covered by his shirt and glasses, nodded his thanks to her. His lips thinned when he saw Vax, and a wordless and tight exchange passed smooth under an unknown current. Vex pretended that she didn’t notice it, or Vax’s careful consideration of the space between her and Percy. 

“So,” Gilmore said, awkwardly. “Since we all within our right minds and bodies; does anyone have any actual working ideas? Because I rather think that time is ticking.” He indicated the rotten trees and floating ash, and all the humanoid roots that had angled their heads towards them in silent, sinister beckoning. The pits that acted as eyes had an eerie blackness running down the woody knots, reminding Vex of the stain seeping under the skin of her hand. 

Trinket’s head suddenly snapped to the side, and he sank into his battle posture with a slow growl rumbling out of him.

“Time has actually run out for you all, I’m afraid,” a smooth, cultured voice said to their right. 

The man who walked out was tall, handsome, and commanding. His high cheekbones and goatee framed jaw made him genial and lordly, his strong presence inspiring respect and awe. His blue coat swished behind him, the gold edges and clasps glinting harshly in the landscape, and a large sword was strapped to his back. His eye were dark, and perhaps the only thing disturbing about his overall appearance. They peered intently at them all while his pale mouth quirked into an amused smirk.

“Lord Silas,” Percy said, almost mocking. Vex glanced over and saw cold fury overtake Percy’s face like a silk curtain falling over a painting. He raised the List until it pointed at Silas’ head. “So good of you to join us.”

Silas grinned, and there was a glint of elongated teeth. “Percival. I see that the chains my dear wife conjured have held fast yet. Tell me, did you enjoy your time as a flea ridden mongrel?”

Percy grip trembled and a manic light had entered his eyes. “You will die today. I will make you and your wife pay for all that you did to my family.”

Sila chuckled. “Would you look at that dear, the pup has learned to bark.”

“Indeed he has,” A woman’s voice drawled from behind them. 

Delilah was utterly glamorous even surrounded by the rotting, grey-lined Thicket. As she stepped out from the black tree shelter, she seemed to glow with innate power, as tightly controlled as the dark brown hair piled on top of her head. Her femininity was powerful, accentuated by her thick, billowing skirts, and the fabric that covered her neck and waist elegantly. While Silas pulled off cool aloofness with his sturdy frame, she was sharp and quick motions that telegraphed passionate cruelty. 

“It’s a good thing we acquired a new pet to play with,” she said to them, red lips stretched around her own sinister smile. “Come down, young man. Let your friends see the consequences of their hastiness, and arrogance.”

Vax jumped down from his branch and straightened, slipping his dagger out from his cloak as he advanced on them.   


“Vax?” Gilmore said warily. Vax, eyes intent on them, didn’t waver in his slow assault. “Oh god, please tell me they didn’t charm you.”

Vax didn’t answer, only arranged his limbs into a practiced poise, ready to throw his dagger if any of them so much as twitched. 

“You see,” Delilah continued as she began circling the group. Vex pulled out her bow and notched an arrow, while Gilmore, Trinket, and Percy backed up to support her weak points with their own weapons. “You have something of ours that we want back. So we thought a little forward thinking was needed.”

“It that why you kidnapped those children?” Vex demanded, feeling her teeth grind. 

Delilah snorted, gaze a considering glide down Vex’s threatening stance. “Collateral damage that had nothing to do with us. There’s a rather unexplained magical potential in and beyond these woods. The children have grown up with it singing in their dreams and filtering into their food. It’s become more precious to them than water. They were drawn to these portals like pathetic fireflies, all we could do was stand back and watch events unfold in our favour. And here you are.” She turned to Percy, gloved hand stretching up to her chin. “We had a bet, didn’t we, Silas?”

“Percival de Rolo trying to play hero,” Silas spoke up, laughter thick in his throat. “Even I could not predict you to have so radically changed your heart. Where’s your angry vengeance now? Did your new owners neuter all your destructive energy?”

Percy’s hand clenched even tighter on the grip. Smoke started to seep out from under his collar, and Vex had to suppress her reflexive flinch.

“There was a reason you were drawn to these woods too, Percival,” Delilah spoke up. “Where do you think that demon even came from? It may want to escape the Abyss, but even it cannot deny its roots for long. How well suited you were for that particular Vengeance fiend.” Delilah’s elegant prowl had lead her straight to Silas’s side. She placed her elbow on Silas’s shoulder and leaned into him, while Silas angled his frame to mould more carefully into hers. The naked adoration on his face was plain to see, even as neither of them made a move to further their half-embrace.

Whatever Vex imagined of the Briarwoods it never came within a hundred metres of the real thing. They oozed competent charm, perfectly in control to the point where it felt like an unwanted hand on your shoulder from someone you thought you trusted. As a couple they were sweeping lines of elegance and perfectly coiffed facial features, endlessly composed and beautiful extensions of each other. Even as both separated again to stalk around the clearing and cut them off from any chance of escape, there was the sensation that they were still touching; completely attuned in step and intent. 

Percy frowned, mind clearly clicking through several realisations at once. “You didn’t cause these portals?” 

“Well of course we did. How else were we supposed to trap you Percival, and send your wicked demon friend back into that filthy dark hole it came from?” She said. “Unfortunately, that was before I found out about this magical sinkhole. No matter, we discovered something far more interesting to tap into.”

“Enough of this,” Vex said, drawing her bowstring back and aiming her first explosive arrow at Silas, the beeswax string a comforting line on her chin. “Where the hell did the children end up? Tell me where you are keeping them, or expect your fancy clothes to get a little messy.”

Silas bared his teeth and emitted a lethal hiss in her direction while Delilah chuckled, the sound harsh and threatening. “See for yourself.”

As if waiting for a cue, several smaller figures stepped out from behind their own trees and trailed into the clearing, appearing sporadically through the fog. Their faces and hair were streaked with dust, clothes tattered and almost ruined by branches and several days without mending. Their eyes seem to burn with happiness, expressions relaxed and unafraid. These were undoubtedly the missing children. Vex mentally cursed as she guessed that the Briarwoods must have charmed them too to keep them pliant. As she looked at each child, she found that the one closest to Delilah had a small face, big brown eyes, and a purple dress lined with silver. 

Iris. 

Vex’s fingers relaxed an inch and Delilah zeroed in on that weakness with delight. 

“Now you’ve seen them, we can even the playing field a bit more,” she said as her hand raised to the air. The snap of fingers was quiet, yet a concussive force seemed to travel wide.

Then, there was a series of sputters as sparks of white light erupted from the black trees. One spark burst in a loud crackle and gaped wider and wider until it resembled the portal Vex had seen the other day. 

“Away you go, now,” Silas told the children. “Join your little friends in your new home.” They all looked up at him, their grubby faces split wide by delight and shining devotion. Then as a babbling, excited group they trotted off to the portal and vanished through it.

“No!” Vex cried out, and lunged forward. 

Vax was quicker. His arms locked around her chest and stomach to haul her back, dagger waving too close to her cheek for comfort. “Vax, please, snap out of this and let me go!” she demanded, resisting the urge to look backwards and be confronted with Vax’s glazed expression. 

“Give us the scroll, girl,” Delilah called through Vex’s struggles. “It is a fair exchange after all. The scroll for all the children. Give it to us, and you might be able to return them to their families. Your choice.”

With her shoulder yanked back so far the string of muscle lying against her shoulder blade burned, Vex spat out, “My choice? You’re holding them hostage for something that never belonged to you in the first place!”

Delilah laughed. “Impudence. You know nothing of us, or what we have named for ourselves; what we have done and will continue to do. Stop fighting, or at least learn how to surrender. It would be better for your future sufferings.

“What the hell do you even need it for? What sort of spell requires you to be such a heartless bitch,” Vex challenged as her right knee lifted to increase the force needed to slam her foot into Vax’s. His muted yelp, whistling against her neck, sent new hope hopping around in her chest. 

“You are willing to risk the lives of children to find out about some silly piece of parchment? I would have thought Percy would have chosen better, more moral and noble companions,” Delilah smirked, though there was a hard gleam in her eyes denoting irritation, a tight whitening around her burgundy red mouth. “He was always been drawn to those heroic stories since he was a boy. Or so his mother told us. She was so deeply worried about her clever boy with his head buried in the sand of inked letters.”

Percy bared his teeth as a clammy sheen washed over his face. “That silly little parchment drove you all the way here chasing a measly little cursed dog. Look at who the desperate fools are now.”

“It’s a summoning spell,” Gilmore announced, derision curling his mouth into a nasty sneer. “I have no idea about the language, but I could still detect its stink. And whatever you were hoping to summon is old. Very old. Something that probably shouldn’t ever see the light of day again, let alone land in your filthy hands.” 

Vex glanced back at Silas, at the anger curdling the long lines of his face and the pointed teeth slowly baring into a snarl. “Now I really have grown bored. Give us the parchment or I will rip your limbs apart one by one, give the remains for my wife to make a puppet out of you, and then call back the children to feast on them.”

“Well it’s a very good thing we came prepared then,” Gilmore replied, saucily, before a purple flash cracked over Vex’s shoulder, and she was suddenly free from Vax’s hold. 

Sputtering on the ground, Vax glared in her direction before he deftly flipped back onto his feet. 

It didn’t matter because Vex had already scrambled away, a quick somersault returning her bow to her hands. Her first arrow of the fight easily struck Silas’ arm, and he flinched back with a howl of outrage as the arrowhead embedded itself into a somewhat crumbling tree, effectively trapping him. 

 

“Percy, now!” Vex yelled as she then ducked to the side, elbow jamming hard into the ground and her thigh scraped raw by roots. 

There was a deafening bang, and Vex felt her hands jolt to her ears as she tried desperately to clamp relief and silence to them. The ringing that proceeded after the gun’s explosion was crystal sharpness slicing into her jaw, and upwards to stab at her temple. 

For several crucial seconds she lay stunned on the ground, shaking. But that was all she allowed herself.

She jumped to her feet to see Delilah hunched over and clutching at the reddening mass spreading over her dress. Gilmore had rushed for Vax and thrown himself over him, hands tight around her brother’s wrists, and hips pinned to the ground. Percy was moving quickly, marching towards Silas with The List aloft and shaking in his hand. All she could see of Percy was the dark soot trailing from his hair, from the ends of his coat like a strange lace cape. Trinket thundered over to join Percy, his growls growing louder and sharper as her hearing filtered through the white noise knocking around her head.

Heart in her mouth, Vex scrambled to her feet and drew her bowstring to her chin again, whispering harshly against the beeswax and along her thumb, spying Sila’s throat through Percy’s smoke. 

With another arrow fired in a burst of finite electricity arcing through the air like a flock of birds travelling through a spring grown canopy, Vex glanced over to Gilmore in time to catch him breaking away from a fairly intense kiss with Vax, pulling him up until both men were seated, locked in a tight embrace. 

Panting, Shaun shoved his forehead against Vax, finger’s curling into a death grip at the fine hairs laced under Vax’s pony tail. Because his back was towards Vex, she was unable to see his expression. It didn’t matter; Shaun’s shoulders telegraphed broken misery that threatened to topple empires and burn whole businesses to the ground. When his head turned to check the small explosion Vex’s second arrow had unleashed on Silas’ tree, she saw violence and despair within the arch of Shaun’s still shiny upper lip, his bitten mouth and hairy chin. 

“Vax’ildan, you will break out of this enchantment. You cannot do this to me now, when we’ve only just started. Please, I implore you, prove how much stronger you are than these assholes, my bird,” Shaun said, dark eyes determined when he turned back to Vax.

Vax’s dagger glittered once more and curved a shining arc through the air, threatening to clip Gilmore’s goatee. He dodged, barely managing to keep his weight on Vax’s thighs. 

Hands glittering with lavender light, he growled out, “I have loved you since the first day I saw you and you tried to pick my pocket, you damn fool. Ever since I rescued you from the authorities who caught your thieving hands and I called you my wife to get you out of prison. I have held you and kissed you and made love to you. You and I have shared flesh and heart and determination and I will not let you walk away from me with my stolen heart so easily.”

He yanked at Vax’s wrist and the dagger’s point suddenly pierced the soft skin of his throat. “If you love me too, enough to break out of this enchantment, you'll know to spare my goatee from such heartbreak, and fulfill that promise you made to me last night. Come back to me, Vax’ildan.” 

Vax’s eyes flickered. The dagger point twisted slowly until blood dribbled onto Gilmore’s fancy collar, and Vex tentatively aimed her third arrow towards Vax’s thigh. 

At the far end of the clearing Delilah slowly straightened from her slump. 

Vax abruptly shook his head and the dagger was tossed to the ground. “Shaun? Shaun! Oh my fucking god,  _ Shaun _ . I could have  _ killed _ you.”

Gilmore laughed. “Death has visited me many times before, my love, she has not seen fit to take me quite yet.” Vax made a wounded noise and surged up to crush their mouths again. 

“Time and place boys,” Vex yelled while firing her arrow at Delilah, then cursed when it missed. “Vax, catch!”

Vax’s hand deftly plucked the scroll from the air before he disengaged from Shaun’s mouth. “Just like when we were fifteen, Stubby?” 

“You weren’t kissing anyone so pretty in Syngorn,” she said as Percy fired another deafening shot at Silas. “But that’s the idea!”    


Then things started to take a turn for the worse. There was a great howl, and Trinket flew several feet across the clearing and crashed painfully against a crumbling bark.

“Trinket!” Vex cried out, taking a few steps back and towards him. “Are you alright?” 

Looking a little battered, Trinket lifted his head and shook out his fur, groaning in affirmation when he clambered to his feet. 

“Protect Vax!” she yelled before taking out her explosive arrow and aiming for Delilah. 

Delilah, however, was fully upright and dealing with Gilmore’s spells with a dismissive flick, purple and red and black lights veering off to crash in a shower of sparks. Vax had leapt up and was helping Percy, his movements liquid and sure as they both tackled Silas while struggling to dodge his more powerful swings of his formidable sword. 

Vex made herself useful by releasing her explosive arrow. 

“Wow,” she breathed once the smoke cleared down. “Percy, you have to make me more of these.”

Percy rolled on the ground, sweat dripping off his temples as he rounded on Delilah, who had recovered far too quickly for Vex’s liking to throw a fireball at him. “As many as you want if we get more results like that,” he threw over his shoulder, teeth dazzling if a little bloody. 

Gilmore had switched to aid Vax, the pair of them working seamlessly with each other to attack Silas’ defense. Trinket was doing exactly as she said and was using any distractions to swipe at Silas’ heels. 

Then Silas managed to ram his sword into Vax’s side when the idiot decided to get too close to Silas’ personal space and wasn’t quick enough to duck away. 

Silas’ great hand then clamped down hard on Vax’s shoulder, white fangs exposed as he growled at Vax, the inside of his mouth very red and glistening. 

A dagger whistled past Vex and hit the ground inches from her right foot, the scroll fluttering pointedly. Vex sent another one of her enchanted arrows at Silas, hoping that the electricity would burst painfully on his throat and force him to let go of her brother.

It worked: Vax was dropped to the ground and Silas stalked towards her in a fit of temper. His dark eyes fixated on Vex and rage blossomed white around his mouth, while Delilah remained distracted by the List’s continuous cracks, 

“We have to get the spell out of here!” Percy snapped, ducking under another fireball that sputtered small flames onto his coat. Delilah was ready for him though, and a burst of chains erupted from thin air to slam him against a tree, his sharp cry cutting through the clearing.   


“I’ve got it!” Vax said before he vaulted over Trinket and swiftly disappeared into the dying growth. 

Silas sent a hot look at Delilah, their brief exchange morphing his hard lines into a predatory sneer, and he too disappeared, Gilmore and Trinket in pursuit. Upon seeing Delilah prowl towards them, Vex grinned before she held the scroll up and whistled as loud as she could to get her attention. 

Delilah whirled around, her dress an arc of malevolent purple. Vex winked, tied the scroll onto her arrow with shaking hands and sent it Vax’s way, the arrow puffing ash into dark swirls. 

“Whoops. Missing something are we?” She said cheekily. 

“I think, little girl, that you’ve had quite enough fun for the day, don’t you think?” Delilah replied coolly, a glittering smirk forming lines around her eyes. 

She raised her hand and pointed her finger at Vex, drawing a straight line to Vex’s heart.    


“No!” Percy screamed behind her. 

But it was too late. 

A stream of dark energy shot out of Delilah’s hand and hit Vex full in the chest with agonising force. She stumbled back several paces as the energy rippled white hot through her body, tugging and pulling at her chest until it felt like her very soul was being suck out of her. It was a deep spiritual violation that Vex had no way to counter or react to in any way that was rational. The white hot sensation vanished into a frigid spike and left her painfully icy.

Her gaze went unfocused, but she could still see beyond Delilah shoulder at a black void yawning open that seemed to swell wider, and wider.

Feeling curiously like a hollow doll, she dropped to her knees. Then crumpled to the ground. 

There was another blast of arcane force, and the sound of a body slammed into a tree was preceded by Percy’s cries of pain, the clatter of metal on wood.

“Now, just stay there until my love and I are ready for you, Percival,” Delilah said as she walked away, her steps digging confidently into the dirt and away from Vex’s sight, out of the clearing and heading straight for Vax, Gilmore, and Trinket.

Vex wondered if the dirt had ever felt so soft before, in the years she had played on it with her brother and Trinket. Its pliable surface helped her brain to disconnect, her limbs to lose focus in a way bath’s or a long massage hand been unable to do before. She could almost pretend that she wasn’t panicking over her slow death, for this was death turned corporeal. 

The one thing she feared most in this world had finally caught up to her.

“Get up,” Percy said to her, coldly. 

He was right across the clearing. There was no way his voice should be able to reach her numbing ears. But it did.

“Vex, if you don’t get up right now, I swear I’ll shoot you myself,” he barked. There was something tremulous is his tone, and his throat kept cracking. There was a wild struggle of what sounded like chains and tree bark splintering, but in the absence of a warm body hitting the ground to reach her she concluded that his efforts were in vain. 

She couldn’t move to help him. Couldn’t move period. Wasn’t sure if she could open her eyes; they felt like they had been sealed shut by hot blood pouring sluggishly out of where her soul once resided. 

“Please, Vex. Don’t do this now,” he said. “Stay with me, please.” 

She felt fuzzy with cold, drained of comfort or warmth. It was getting far too easy to slip down into the dejected nothing that seemed to envelope and bite harshly. She thought of yesterday’s white and purple wildflowers grinning sunnily at the forge and their pollen sticking to Trinket’s fur; the wild garlic spilling as haphazard silk down the Thicket floor; the smell of lavender; the single rose as the centerpiece on the kitchen table where Gilmore and Vax were to have their love letter meal. She also thought of blue feathers, and Percy’s eyes. 

“I’ll do anything,” Percy confessed into the quiet clearing.

A foot stepped past her. 

The hem of a dress whispered on the ground as a woman glided past, serene, and not Delilah’s haughty tread.

As if commanded, Vex opened her eyes and caught sight of a white mask, whiter than bone, than the wild garlic, before the woman above her knelt down to touch her cheek. The hand was cold but Vex felt like she could breathe through its comforting power. The woman was stunningly beautiful, even clothed entirely in black as she was. The black seemed to ripple out and away, defying any laws that would tie her down to the earth and its bluebells.

Without knowing how, Vex knew that this was the Raven Queen, and she had come from the black void that she had seen past Delilah’s shoulder when Vex had been hit by that curse.

A pale chin tilted, luminous, towards where Vex thought Percy was. 

In a low, husky voice, she said, “Do you remember me?”

Percy’s breathing turned ragged. “Yes. You told me to go back to Whitestone. You said these woods would protect me, should I run into any harm. I thought you another dream.”

The Raven Queen shook her head. “I am many things. Are you ready to hear me now?”

“I listened last time.” 

The hand touching Vex’s face, long and spindly, raised to linger over her mask. Suddenly, ash spun into grey threads and started to faintly glow between her fingers, the dip of her thumb. 

“Those children will not last long. They cannot. The Abyss was not meant for such young souls, and there is no one who could survive the journey to save them. Except you, Percival.” The strings vanished in a cloudy puff, and one black one remained wrapped around the Raven Queen’s index finger. She raised that hand holding the string and pointed at him. Vex somehow found strength, and turned her head to follow its dark line as it aimed straight for Percy’s heart.

Percy was smoking like a burning coal under the new chains that Delilah had cast to trap his shoulders to the tree. Great wisps and curls were sluggishly floating around his face and hands and up into the air. His hair was completely white and hands taloned into great black claws once again. His eyes were completely black, and didn’t seem to know what to look at more; Vex on the ground and dying, or the inexplicable Goddess running her hand down Vex’s face. He seemed human, if a monstrous mockery of the man Vex had come to know. She felt panic for a second, then caught sight of the undamaged chain glinting through his trousers and knew that it was anger that had leaked past the enchantment, and not any fault in the chain. Seeing the transformation as a cancerous pathwork like this made Percy look a lot like one of the Raven Queen’s creatures, a strange twist of coincidence Vex couldn’t help but admire in her final moments. 

“You are cursed,” the Raven Queen continued with a deep hiss. “You have always been so, even before the Briarwoods found your home. It is why Delilah Briarwood’s attempt to kill you - the same spell used to down you, Vex’ahlia - did not work the way it was meant to. These things never happen by coincidence, but neither was this by design. It is you that fate has chosen to enter the portals into the Abyss and bring those children back to this realm. Accept this offer, and I can make sure Vex’ahlia will have a long, healthy life under my protection. I can help you. I have only enough power to send one, and some left over to pull the children back through the rifts. You would have to find your own way back. You might never return, so to decide this will be at your own risk. Do you accept?”

Something dark crackled overhead, a static rush of feathers that resembled thunder. From her position, Vex could see the crumpling treeline being split open by a visceral language scrawling pale, mysterious words into the leaves and bark. After several blinks she realised that a great contract was being written by an unseen quill across several trees and along the grass near them, with the end coming down to scribble a dotted line on her left arm, the one Orthax marked with his filth. 

Her eyelids drifted shut, heavy with the weight of the Goddess’s offer.

“Something terrible has been happening to this Thicket, these people, for quite a while. You would do this now? Even after you have stood by and done  _ nothing _ to protect these children you claim to watch over? Why should I believe you?” Percy snapped, his teeth lengthening around a snarl. 

The Raven Queen watched him for a moment, mouth pressed into a firm line. 

“I couldn’t bare to witness the pain any longer,” she said, and there was something in her voice that spoke to Vex of decades long sorrow; an immeasurable stretch of time that left long healed wounds to fester in the air; a bitterness between the teeth and under the tongue. “Guide them home, Percival.”

Percy’s jaw clenched, and he sent an agonised glance Vex’s way. “Should I choose to accept, do I have to leave immediately?”

“No,” The Raven Queen replied, firmly. “You can choose to fulfill my request any time after you have concluded your vendetta against the Briarwoods. Just know that the sooner you go to them, the less will fall to the demons and monsters that lurk there.”

“My vendetta,” Percy snarled. “Requires some advice. The portals: can we close them?” 

“Yes. It requires enormous amount of power, but it can be done without needing to sacrifice anyone needlessly.”

“Any more hints to give us?” he said, wry. 

Her smile was slow and very small, easy to miss unless Vex paid very close attention. “That would be telling.”

There was a pointed grunt from Percy. 

“I suppose, I’ve made soul-destroying deals before,” Percy said, resolute. “What’s a gambling man to do when a literal Goddess plays with mortal lives like we’re food?”

The Raven Queen’s expression fell. “You do not trust me,” she breathed. 

“Why offer to save her? What do you gain from this offer? Why should I accept this?” He demanded, tone suddenly desperate. 

Vex couldn’t read his expression to discern his change of tone. She had closed her eyes and let herself drift, unable to stand this monotonous back and forth. Unable to stand Percy’s indecision over saving her life, even though she too was suspicious of the Raven Queen’s motives.

There was just so much energy needed to talk; Vex couldn’t bare it.

The Raven Queen let out a harsh exhale that would be mistaken for irritation if she hadn’t already been so composed.

“I am collecting on a promise that was made to me long ago,” she said cryptically, voice a sudden and terrible rasp that prophesied destruction and absolute conquest. “You want to fix this just as you’ve wanted to fix everything in your life, including yourself. I need a champion just as I need this woman to see the Thicket saved once more. But why should you gain anything? Why should you fix something that has always, and will always, be broken from the start? Are you that sort of man who will let children die, Vex die, for the sake of your pride? There is no use in controlling anything. As I said before; this is all the machinations of fate and coincidence, and they are beyond even my power. This, I can at least offer my power to. I think the question that needs to be asked is: why should I accept you when you waver thus?”

The hand in Vex’s hair resumed its stroking, while Percy remained silent. Then the Raven Queen spoke to her.

* * *

 

Vex omitted the next part of the Raven Queen’s intervention when she recounted the story to her brother, and the many people she told after. She could hardly accept that it had happened herself. 

Vex had never wanted to believe in ghost stories. However, the past few days had terrifying beasts of smoke storm its way into her life, necromancers and vampires opening magical portals into another plane, a literal Goddess offering favours, and a young Lord with a terrifying invention that might just burn worlds. It was all Vex could to to keep her head above water in the days following the entire adventure, so keeping the one secret about the ordeal became the crux of her denial. All in order to keep her sanity in check. 

Despite that, all these elements created one hell of a story; made mythic by the details she purposefully left out to add mystery and drama to the whole ordeal. As one only can in taverns, settled next to a campfire, or even while sitting next to a clever gnome bard, who had shown an interest in her story while fiddling with half-formed melodies on his lyre, a gleam of adventure bright in his eye.

Her conversation with the Raven Queen went like this: 

“Vex’ahlia,” the Raven Queen said. “Look at me.”

Vex opened her eyes. 

Her other pale hand, heavily blistered with black scars etched like a spider web on the skin, lifted to push the mask back enough to reveal to Vex, but not Percy, an even more staggeringly beautiful face. One so achingly familiar Vex let out a sob and felt tears running from her eyes and into her hair.

The Raven Queen smiled warmly at her. “Hello, Darling,” she said, but it was stilted, like it was unpractised and had been left unused for centuries. “I forgot how young I once looked.”

Vex started to hiccup through her cries. “How?” she asked the woman, the one who held her face even though the edges looked stretched by unimaginable time and wisdom. 

Vex centuries older, Vex as the Raven Queen, resembled mother. A kindness that must be hereditary shone through white teeth and dark eyes, turned black by whatever power Vex the Raven Queen must have inherited. Oily black and grey stains ran up her neck and into her temples, reminiscent of Orthax’s touch. Her skin, in contrast, was so pale it was almost translucent. 

“Spoilers,” Vex the elder said, sadly. “There’s no use in telling because nothing will ever change. Believe me; I’ve tried.” 

“I don’t want this,” Vex admitted and her elder counterpart laughed a low, throaty rasp.

“We still don’t. But we have been marked for it since you first met Percy, and have accepted the responsibility since. In every timeline, every possible outcome. It’s how I was able to find you both.”

Vex stared helplessly up at Vex, the Raven Queen. “Do I save them, at least?”

She smiled. “You will. You always do. And countless more.”

“Vax?”

“Forever yours, even beyond all time.”

Vex started to calm, felt it crest and wash over the tear soaked hiccups that had arrested her chest. “Mother?”

Solemn lines appeared, grief sudden and as plain as ever. Strangely, the sight of it was comforting, and Vex thought to herself, ‘ _ Nothing has changed there _ ’.

“The dead are beyond us. We only reside in the in between. But, one day, we will find her again.”

Vex regarded her. Then stretched up with the last of her strength to wipe away the black wetness that rolled down the Raven Queen’s cheek. “We will,” she vowed. 

“One day,” The Raven Queen repeated, and sudden urgency took hold of her, energy coalescing into a sudden grab of Vex’s arm, the one with the contract and Orthax’s hex imprinted on it. “Not now. Not for a long time, if I have anything to say about it. Could you do me a favour, Darling?”

“Yes, anything,” Vex said, helpless against the pain flaring white hot in her arm.

“ _ Live _ . And thrive. Do not fear me when I inevitably come, but do not spend time agonising over the wait. You are teetering on a cataclysm yet to come. Do not waste this second chance. Please,” she added, a harsh hiss that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than begging. “Don’t even bother waiting for him. He will come, and you will both see each other again, I promise. But until then: I want to see the ocean. Show us the world outside of mother’s home; Vex’ahlia of Whitestone.”

“I want to see the ocean,” Vex repeated. But it was numb, her own voice a pale copy over the blinding, heartless, and utterly crushing weight of disembodiment. 

“Percival,” The Raven Queen, Vex from the future, barked out around the sound of falling chains. “Decide  _ now _ .”

Through the empty tunnel of encroaching death, she saw from a distance the Raven Queen with her mask firmly in place step aside to let a newly freed Percy scramble to Vex’s side. She barely felt his shaking hands as he gathered her into his arms. 

“Yes. Always,  _ yes _ ,” he whispered; as his hot forehead pressed to her own; as Vex’s heart sang out its last beats. “Please stay with me, Vex; I choose yes. Forevermore.”

And in the black of her mind, The Raven Queen’s voice whispered,  _ “Until next time Vex’ahlia of Whitestone: The Last Raven Queen.” _

* * *

Life roared back into Vex with earthquake force.

She gasped awake back in Percy’s arms, his face the first thing she saw as she scrambled for air, to clutch at something that wasn’t cold and empty. 

“You’re alright, it’s all ok, breathe,” Percy told her through her panic. “You’re back, it’s fine, _you’re_ _fine_.”

“She, what, I-,” she babbled and she held onto his forearm, the heated muscles contracting and pumping blood and so warm she could weep. She looked up into blue eyes sparkling with shock and insane relief.

“She’s gone, the Raven Queen’s gone, and you’re in the Thicket, alive. God, you’re alive.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Darling,” she said, gratified to see him choke back involuntary laughter.

She reached out to adjust his glasses and brush away the water streaking down his ash coated face. Percy just buried his face into her hair, one arm hooking under her armpit to pull her closer to him. Probably to hide the fucking wretched look warping his handsome face into a man decades older than he was. 

“How unfortunate for me,” he said thickly, and she felt his mouth stretch into a smile, the corner of his lips resting on her hairline. 

Vex let herself bask in his warmth for what felt like a long time, aligning her breaths with his shaky exhales.

Then her eyes snapped open. “Vax. Percy, we need to go.” She scrambled to stand, using him as a makeshift crutch as he nearly tripped trying to help her to her feet. 

Instead of doing something incredibly stupid like protesting, Percy thumbed dirt away from her cheek and pulled her towards the treeline, saying, “This way.”

They ran. 

Between leaping over blackened roots and tumbling down an ashy slope, Vex called out, “How are we for bullets?”

Percy’s wrist snapped and the barrel part of the List dislodged. After a furtive glance while keeping an eye on his footing, he told her. “Enough. You?”

“Plenty,” she said grimly as she vaulted over a still smoking broken log, bright green embers glowing and aiding her assessment of Gilmore’s tracks. “We need a better plan though, I don’t think fire power will help us out for much longer.”

“I’m thinking, I’m thinking,” Percy gritted out, half out of breath. “If only we can trick them into that portal.”

“The portal we just left in that other clearing? Bit of a tall order there, Darling,” Vex said as she notched her arrow to her bowstring. 

“We’ll just have to make do,” Percy replied grimly as he snapped his gun shut again. “That or give them a bloody hard time of it before they finish us.”

“I do love a challenge,” she laughed, sending Percy one last wink to hide her trembling mouth as they finally burst into another darkly lit clearing streaked by Gilmore’s purple magic. 

What they were confronted with ripped a startled and anguished “NO!” from Vex before she whipped out her bow and sent an arrow at Delilah’s head.

Delilah ducked out of the way, but Vex’s attention was too obscured to care overly.

At Gilmore’s feet lay Vax. There were welts on his arms and a bruise was starting to purple on his chin, a messy spatter of burst vessels growing like fungi on his jaw and neck and up to his ear. His clothes were torn and smoking slightly, and there was blood matting the fabric covering his leg. Trinket stood near Vax, snarling body angled at Silas and bristling with fury. 

The air stank. Gilmore’s lavender perfume was soured by sulphur, crackling in green and purple sparks that snapped nastily against the rotten tree trunks. The black wood crumbled into coal shaped heaps on the ground, puffing up plumes of grey ash until the whole clearing was dark with sulphuric fog and burnt wood, layered with ash. 

Helpless, Vex stared at Gilmore, at the snarl that had transformed the confident and loving man, her  _ friend _ , into something dangerous. Someone liable to burn the whole of Tal’Dorei to ashes on account of her brother. Her heart felt seismic. She wanted to snatch her brother away and tear into the forest; away from the Briarwoods, from Percy, even from Gilmore. All because she didn't think anyone had ever loved them the way that Gilmore was clearly in love with Vax, and it terrified her, more than the sight of Vax injured and unmoving on the ground.

On seeing Percy and Vex, Delilah’s face contorted with irritation and she cracked her knuckles. She and Silas were heavily blood soaked and panting, but still looking relatively unscathed, and powerful. “I'm becoming supremely annoyed,” she announced while straightening her posture. “That people will not die when I tell them to.” 

“My love, stay your anger. We cannot afford to make any mistakes,” Silas implored, looking rough with the singed edges of his coat and a deep burn blasted into his forehead like an ugly ravine. He sent as sharp look at Vex. “Do not think we don’t know who you are. Do you truly think that the way you carry yourself in these woods has any bearing over those who have held true power in their hands? Not this - a political office or a lover's compromise - but those who would see you as nothing but refuse. Do you honestly think, halfbreed, that they see you as anything more than reclaimed waste? Pretty and poised, and yet still nothing but a useless, shiny, trinket. No matter the taste of your blood, it is still worth less than rainwater. And you, so bitter and angry inside all of these fragile layers… wouldn't you want to embrace that? All those grudges you hold like shields to your chest, those children you have already lost… you have nothing to lose by simply being yourself, and accepting your wretched, mortal destiny or worthlessness."

“Oh, redirect your unimaginative insults to someone who actually cares, Silas,” Percy snapped, before quickly firing a round, wincing when the retort bit at his hand. “Worthless waste? Never so long as I live. Her character, her heart, her very determination is worth more than all the jewels and weaponry than you can ever hope to achieve.”

Vex had never fully blushed for silver tongued men, or honey-coated elves hoping to gain her father’s wealth despite her bastard status. The defiant heat spreading over her cheekbones and down into her collar cemented that today was indeed a day for surprises.   


Seeing Percy, who had previously cradled her so carefully in his arms, put down a vampire who insulted her, and literally sold his soul to a goddess for her, Vex realised that there wasn’t time to be afraid any longer. In fact, there was no reason to let it rule her. Either she ran and exhausted her legs and heart until they felt nothing again, or she let her stomach tie itself into knots, her skin crawl with goosebumps, and her very lungs turn into a hummingbird’s wings with frantic flight. 

Fear was to be her very purpose. She wasn’t going to let it rule her any longer, but drive her into whatever new purpose the Raven Queen - no - what  _ she  _ had given herself. 

It was this thought process that emboldened Vex, and she threw back her head to laugh recklessly into the air, dizzying relief making her feel quite mad and bursting with renewed determination. She was going to see this battle through and take Percy back to her cabin so she could finally fall into her heart’s wants, and see where the future could take them both. 

“I didn’t get to say earlier,” she called out to Delilah, whose face had twisted into a rictus full of hatred. “You’re both fucking ugly, and you’ll be screaming for death when I’m through with blowing both of you up, you absolute rotten bitches.”

Gilmore laughed, the sound wild and angry, as down on the ground Vax groaned. “See that’s what I love most about you Vex; you never stay down long enough to miss the chance to retaliate.”

“I couldn’t disappoint you could I?” She called back as, wordless, she and Percy split up to circle the Briarwoods; recommencing their earlier battle as if they hadn’t been interrupted.

“It’ll be a very dark time if you ever did, my beautiful Vex,” Gilmore replied before firing a ball of green flame at Silas, who spluttered and clutched at his ribs. 

Trinket then bellowed and leapt at a charging Silas, the two clashing in a brief skirmish before Silas unsheathed his massive blade from his back and tried to swipe at Trinket, who dodged neatly out of the way despite how his sides heaved with exertion. 

“Careful Trinket,” Vex said as she sent an explosive arrow at Delilah, who had become wise to Vex’s methods and easily dodged it, bending back in a graceful arch. The explosion detonated on the trees behind her, and yet the shock barely shifted Delilah’s stance. 

Silas’ sword unexpectedly whistled past her, and Vex had to quickly perform her own contortion feat to avoid it, only not as graceful as Delilah due to fright. She backed away before Silas could swing at her again, catching the veined line of Silas’ pale jaw as he turned to glare at her. Vex became preoccupied by something over his shoulder, otherwise she would have done something foolish like kicked him in the balls. 

Luckily, Percy’s bullets distracted Silas before Vex lost something important like her head.

Bursts of light started to flash and blink behind Silas’ shoulders. At first, Vex thought they were colourful afterimages from stress and shock. Then she realised from the shape and glow that they were ripped spaces of light just like Abyss portal in the other clearing.

The rips appeared haphazardly on the dying trees, at a faster rate than they were earlier. They glowed dully and slammed shut and open like blinking eyes until Vex felt dizzy with disorientation, and inspiration. 

“Percy!” she yelled as she swiftly backed away and sent another arrow into the gaping hole seeping blood down Silas’ coat. “You best rethink that portal plan again.”

Percy paused in his reloading to look up at her, then followed her line of sight to the shuddering trees and the sparkling smaller portals. “That could work!” he said loudly before returning to the frantic task of shoving bullets into the barrel. “Think you could widen one of them for me?”

Vex turned her head, feeling hope sink into a small dust covered stone in her gut when she realised that the small portals were too high in the air to help them in any way, and too fleeting for her to hit. She cast her mind desperately for other ideas, anything that could help them, anything that didn’t risk Trinket any further, that didn’t give any of Delilah’s spells a chance to hit Gilmore, that didn’t let the sand ticking down her brother’s life run out and render her a deformed half of a whole. 

She swore to herself, letting her eyes shut briefly as her panicked thoughts melted into dying stars. “There must be something. Come on, think!”

There was a small explosion to her side as Delilah’s fireball missed Gilmore yet again. Trinket roared in pain, and her cry of sympathy was involuntary. 

“Vex?” Percy called out, and there was another bang from the List. “Vex!”

“Shut up!” she snarled, her eyes snapping open as she whirled around to check the clearing once more. 

And saw the Raven Queen standing beyond Silas’ back, hidden like she was one with the trees. Vex’s breath caught. 

“Oh,” she whispered, as the Raven Queen lifted a suddenly glowing hand and beckoned at Vex. “Oh you idiot. How the fuck did you think this would work?”

The Raven Queen’s fingers curled impatiently once more, light flickering.

“We ask too much of ourselves, sometimes,” Vex whispered to herself, before drawing and firing her arrow before she had time to think about it. 

The arrow pinged off Silas’ swinging sword and hit a tree a bare inch away from the Raven Queen’s hand. Vex grunted with frustration and quickly tried to reload, but some sudden concussive force blew her back, and her head cracked painfully off a misshapen root. 

She was soon distracted from that pain for a new one. A white hot blistering heat took hold of her left hand, burning into the meat of her palm and up to the underside of her forearm, awful and consuming and feeling far too close to Orthax’s insidious touch than she was comfortable with. A scream wrenched itself free from her throat, and she instinctively curled into herself and away from the source of the pain; a deceptively bright portal winking shut right where her hand had previously landed. 

Vex swore into her hand, but she had a job to do so she quickly shook it out, gasping at the throbbing intensity of it. Trinket roared again, and she quickly picked up her mercifully unharmed bow to aim. Her posture was sloppy, the angle, off, and Silas was starting to move to close to her for comfort. Even as Percy’s dwindling bullets kept pushing him staggering back, Silas’ eyes were bright red, and his teeth were dripping with saliva and cold rage, and his strength seemed immeasurable from Vex’s position on the ground. 

However, the sight of the Raven Queen’s dark mask, cool and collected and expectant, sent harsh confidence flooding Vex’s system. 

Vex pulled herself to her feet, blistered hand aching fiercely as she whispered another incantation, and fired at the same time Percy did. 

Somehow, luck was on their side. 

Vex’s arrow struck the Raven Queen’s hand true this time, and the glowing rip suddenly grew larger, wide and gaping like a water ripple on a fathomlessly deep lake.

Meanwhile Percy’s bullet somehow carved a hole through Silas’ temple just as Trinket’s claws scraped bloody gashes into his ribs. 

Silas took a step, faltered, then crumbled. 

“NO! Silas!” Delilah screamed, pulling away from her duel with Gilmore to run for his body. She was no longer so glamourous as before, the veil ripped away by the fight and Gilmore’s barrage. Her dress trailed behind her in tatters and her lipstick was runned, a runny gash parallel to the tears she started to weep. Vex had almost never seen anything so pitiful.

Vex double checked her sight, elbow quivering with the effort of holding her bowstring back with her blistered hand. 

She blinked. She took a long breath, let it fill her lungs with ash, before she exhaled.

Finally, she sent a mental prayer to the Thicket that the shot wouldn’t miss. 

Then she released her explosive arrow.

“Get down!” She yelled, throwing herself to the ground with her hands over her head and barely able to check if anyone else had followed her example.

The detonation was so powerful she was once again blown back into a rotten tree. 

Ears ringing, she tried to scramble to her feet and only crashed down several times. 

When she had shaken her head several times, she looked up to see that Silas, Delilah, and the portal had vanished in a billowing cloud of ash, never to be seen again.

* * *

The sun filtered through, and grey ash turned silvery like dust motes colliding through the air. Vex welcomed the warmth by turning her face to it, took the moment as it was; a pocket of relief poised to cut the adrenaline still thundering through her. It was over. 

Then arms encircled her and pulled her into Vax’s trembling warmth. 

“You did it,” Vax said into her shoulder, fingers shaking on her spine and in her hair. 

“Yeah, we did,” she said, ignoring her pain to dig her hands into his shoulder blades to hold his body weight up, laughing into his ear.

“Fucking hell, I thought we were done for.” 

“Not today,” Vex said, certainty harsh in her throat as she squeezed tighter. “Never.”

There was a warning tap on her shoulder, and the heavy scent of lavender filled her senses as Gilmore wrapped his big arms around them both and squeezed hard enough that they both let out groans. 

“You wonderful creatures are going to age me twenty years before my time, reckless beasts. I don’t know about you but I need a month’s rest,” Gilmore laughed, kissing their cheeks wet before pulling away and wiping his mouth. “That ash tastes horrible.” 

He whirled around. “And you, my clever, clever amazing man, I will dedicate an entire nail polish line to you if you never fire that thing near my ears or anywhere in my vicinity ever again,” he announced before grabbing Percy into a rib crushing hug. Percy patted Gilmore’s back, eyes very wide and shoulders uncomfortably tight even as fondness tugged at the lines of his mouth.

Vex and Vax meanwhile were treated to an over exuberant Trinket trying to push his big bulk into them in a rough approximation of a hug, wet tongue running thick saliva over their faces and hands. “Oh, buddy, it’s all ok now and we’re fine, you were so brave out there,” Vex cooed, wrapping her arms around his thick neck and kissing the top of his ears. 

“The children,” Vax said suddenly, pulling away to scan the Thicket. “What about-”

“We’re here,” a voice piped up. 

“Can you help us?” another said, shakily. 

Vex strode over to the missing children, who all were staring around them with wide eyes, blinking like they had just come out of a long sleep. She then stopped in front of the one girl that had started Vex’s adventure. 

“Hello, Iris,” she said, face aching from how hard she was smiling. “It’s time to take you home to your father.”

Iris blinked her big brown eyes, and said, “Is Daddy going to be cross with me? I didn’t mean to run away, I just, I just wanted,” her lip quivered and Vex had the sinking feeling that the poor girl was going to dissolve into tears.

“No, sweetheart, of course he won’t. It wasn’t your fault, and you’ve been so brave. The bravest. He’ll be so happy to see you again, I promise,” she said, fingers automatically reaching up to brush at Iris’ hair. 

“Can we go home now?” Iris said around a watery sniff, and around her the children started to chatter their own desire for home. 

Vex looked at each face in turn, at the weary lines made dark with soot, the gleaming whites of their eyes, and the sun burning away the shivers that made their frames seem so small and vulnerable, and smiled. “Yes, of course. We’ll set off now, and you’ll be back with your families in no time.”

“I’m not going,” Percy spoke up, and she span around to face him, feeling shock erupt in her heart like Delilah’s sparks. 

“What?” she said, half in disbelief.

Percy, shirt and glasses covered in ash yet still looking regal and proud as ever, offered her a chagrined smile. “I made a deal, remember?”

She glanced, worriedly, at Vax and Shaun’s confused expressions. “I don’t see why you have to uphold her request,” she hedged, hands clasping together and shaking in a fretful motion. “The children are back. We saved them; there’s no reason for you to leave.”

Percy removed his glasses, and his tilted head helped hide the expression that briefly crossed his face. “Not all of them are back, Vex. I counted. We’re five short. Maybe more, if Gilmore is correct. Even if I have to bring back bodies… well. Someone needs to look for them at least.” 

Vex drew in a shaky breath before marching over to tug his elbow into her space, trapping them both away from Vax’s suspicious frown. “But how could you get to them? The portal’s have been destroyed.”

“It’s like she said. She has enough power to get one through, and then the children back. And I need to know if Delilah and Silas are still alive. I’d hate to think what they could get up to down below, especially if they get their hands on the others, the deals they could make with certain demons,” Percy explained while slipping his glasses back on. He was very careful not to touch her, she realised. Despite her thumb digging into the crease of his elbow, his hand was turning discreetly away from her, and he was trying very hard to angle his frame towards the Thicket, until the long line of his nose was made stark, and alienating. 

“Whitestone?”

“The Briarwoods were the last hurdle. I... dispatched their followers before I reached them and was cursed. Now that they’re gone the people I reconnected with and who remain loyal to me will take over and set the place to rights. And they’ll have you to reassure them of their freedom… that is, if you decide to accept my offer,” he added, hopefully.

Vex rolled her eyes. “As if my answer would be anything else.”

“Quite right,” Percy said, the line of his shoulders wobbling with relief. 

“And yet, I’m fairly sure that they’d be waiting for you. That they’d prefer their Lord to me,” she admonished as irritation itched in her breast.

Percy sighed. “Not now. It’s too… fresh. There are things that need to be prioritised, more than rebuilding a half thought out dream. I just can’t… Whitestone can deal without me for a time. It has to. For my sake rather than theirs.

“I can still feel it,” he confessed before she could argue further. “Orthax. The Beast. They never left when the portal closed. But I don’t need the chain anymore.” Vex glanced down to verify the enchanted chain’s absence, the reddened gape of his stomach and the fine hairs visible between the folds of his tattered shirt. The chain around his ankle, she realised, had fallen away for some time now.

Percy’s smirk was rueful when she lifted her eyes back to measure the dark sprawl of soot under his ear. “I know it. I know it better than myself right now. And the Raven Queen is there too. They all are, and I can already feel them warring within me. I feel drawn to her bidding, and I don’t even want to try and fight it, or the beast, any longer. I know how terribly selfish that is, but I feel like I have been horrendously selfish for the past three years, and I need to still be a little bit selfish for a short time yet before I can commit to Whitestone. We may have found a way to win here, but there is still a battle to be fought down there. I can do it, and I’m not so afraid that I feel like I can run from it forever. Better I face this now, than run from Whitestone for a third time.” 

He suddenly lifted his hand to pat her arm, the one with Orthax’s taint, the new tattoo the Raven Queen had written next to it that contained the entirety of Percy’s name, and the awful blisters that the portals had burned into her forearm and hand. 

“This is my test to myself. Orthax is down there, and he cannot be permitted to find this plane again. Or you. He is still connected to you and… and I need to fix that. I think that might have been what the Raven Queen intended all along; save the children, kill Orthax while I’m there. Help you. This fight will end with him down in the Abyss, as it should be. Terribly poetic, in a way.”

And then Vex, feeling sick down to her very bones, could only see his blue, and the brand new dark rings that threatened to swallow the irises, the imploring look he sent her that resembled grief. “Will you let me go?” Percy said, after several sucking inhales. 

Vex only hesitated for a brief moment. Then, around a sudden lump in her throat, she said, “Yes. It’s your choice. It’s always been.”

Percy bowed his head.

“Vex?” Vax said to her and she turned to see his titled chin and high brow, offering her his support with his searching gaze.

She shook her head. “You two go on ahead to the village, and then home without me. I’ve got Percy. Someone has to make sure he settles his debts.”

“Vex, what-?” Vax started to demand, and was then cut off by Shaun’s quiet capture of his hand and gentle shush. He nodded at Vex to impart to her his understanding, even as the teeth worrying his lip silently commanded her to tell all when she returned. 

She gave him a watery smile, not even sure if she could tell him anything even if she had all the time in the world to process. 

Gilmore then shook his head before he quickly moved to wrap Percy in his arms. “I can’t presume to know what for or why you’re leaving, but I wish you the safest of travels and to never remain a stranger. I’ve gotten quite used to your mad schemes and… eccentric ways.”

“It’s been an honour to get to know another bird of a feather,” Percy said wryly, clapping Shaun’s shoulder. “Be safe, and hope your business remains fruitful and your life long.”

“Promise the same for me, and I’ll have eyeshadow and lipstick lines waiting for you to model,” Shaun laughed before kissing Percy on the cheek and pulling away. “Return soon, Percival.”

“Keep an eye out for Whitestone traders. They’ll need someone to help them set up or reconnect, provided there are any traders and merchants left,” Percy quickly added.

“I will do all I can,” Gilmore said with a mock bow as Trinket shouldered his way over to Percy.

He leaned down to pet Trinket’s ears. “I think I’m actually going to miss you a lot,” he told Trinket solemnly, at odds with the humorous quirk lifting his mouth. 

Trinket’s droopy ears and snout gave a half-hearted grunt, before he gave a petulant whine that sounded suspiciously like a  _ why? _ before he tried to bury his head into Percy’s stomach. 

Voice growing a little thick, Percy continued to rub at Trinket’s fur. “Just keep looking after your mother and er... eating your fish so you can grow big and strong. Gods, I’m getting emotional over a bear.”

“Trinket does give the best cuddles,” Vex said, her smile fond as Trinket continued to press into Percy’s space and the intention to knock him over so Trinket could sit on him and refuse to let him leave became apparent. “Come on you great lump. You’ll see him again.” She levelled a stern look at Percy. “This isn’t goodbye.” 

Percy’s face crumpled but he gave a sharp nod anyway, and for now it was enough for Vex. It seemed to be enough for Trinket too, for he backed away to go sit forlornly at Gilmore’s feet. 

Vax, after a sharp glare from Vex, cleared his throat. “Well. I can’t say you weren’t a right snobbish prick but… But we couldn’t have done it without you. We need more like you at our side, and I’m glad you were on ours. Home might not be the same, and I wish you the best of luck.” He held out a sure hand, gaze easy and absent of hostility. 

Percy regarded Vax’s warm regard. Then their hands clasped in a respectful shake. 

“Thank you. And I’m sorry about what I said before.”

“Water under the bridge,” Vax replied quickly. “Needed hearing.”

Percy mouth tightened, brow an arch of self-reproach as if he didn’t believe Vax. “Look after yourself. Please try to be less reckless and…. I hope your path gives you what you want.”

Vax chewed at his lip, a habit he dropped soon after Vex and he had started to live at Syngorn. “Yeah, you too. Don’t get yourself killed out wherever you’re going.”

“I’ll try not to,” Percy said with a faint snort. 

Vex meanwhile sent Trinket quick instructions to follow Vax and Gilmore with some children on his back, and with a short glance 

Plans in place, the children crowded around Trinket and gave Percy their soft goodbyes and thank yous, eyes shining with something akin to respect and awe, despite the wary edge that made their hands tighten around Trinket’s fur and Vax and Gilmore’s hands. 

Percy gave them all one last bow, before he turned on his toe and set off, Vex immediately following. She still watched her brother, Gilmore, and the children climbing nimbly over Trinket over her shoulder before what was left of the trees tucked them away from her vision. They walked to the clearing in silence, past the rotting trees and dissipating ash. Yet, when Vex hesitatingly reached out to take Percy’s hand, he took it readily and entangled their fingers.

There was no sudden announcement of Percy’s portal. 

One moment they were entering the empty clearing (excepting the chains and a fireball shaped hole on the ground) and the next a black shadow resembling a mirror hovered in the air, big enough for a tall man to walk through. A faint breeze seemed to pulsate from the inside of it, and the air in the clearing seemed to rustle even though the branches and ash didn’t move. Underneath the portal was a rolling cloud of black smoke, and figures similar to the tree roots were growing and fading with each curl, a strange soundless pop announcing their arrival from the Abyss.

They stopped in the same breath, hands falling away as they took in the sight of battle, decay and the memory of death.   


“So,” Vex said, gaze wandering to observe the plain roots arching over the ash covered ground. Hopefully, the wild garlic would return to heal the gaping scar on the land and burn away the memory of the humanoid soldiers that grew on the roots. “This is it.”

“Yes, it does appear that way,” Percy said, sounding almost off handed as he stared, grey and faintly nauseous, at the portal. 

Vex cleared her throat. “Are you sure about this? I mean, it all seems so sudden. Maybe she didn’t mean for you to go right away? Surely you’d want to stay and see the children safe with their parents? What about seeing the liberated Whitestone again? We might be celebrated as heroes,” she chuckled, anxiety making it half-hearted.

Percy bit his lip. “I really don’t think I’m cut out for that. Not that I would deny them their chance to celebrate. It’s just, this is one last thing might haunt me for the rest of my life if I don’t see it through. If I linger too long here, I might keep finding more reasons to stay here. Can you understand that?”

Vex looked at him, at the patchwork ash resting over his cheeks and forehead framing the determination in his blue eyes. The same look she saw when he first clasped hands with her and said  _ I trust you _ when what he really meant was  _ I see you _ . 

“You know I do,” she said finally, feeling resignation pull her heart down to her stomach. 

Percy’s eyes quickly traced her good fingers tugging at her braid. “You will be safe won’t you? You’ll take care of yourself? And your brother, Trinket, and Shaun, of course.”

“I’ll be just fine. I’m a bloody hero, remember?” she laughed, not surprised when it came out hitched in places.

“Well that is in no doubt, but - but…” he stammered, trailing off when whatever had his chest so tightly bound in desperate inhalations wouldn’t calm.

Vex lifted her good hand to quickly squeeze his bicep, his hand automatically covering hers to soak in the contact. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t you get yourself distracted worrying about us. The children don’t need a half-hearted hero.”

He sighed. “It should be you. Not that I would ever want you to have to face such a place but. But I am not you. I do not want to fail.”

“You won’t,” she said, sure even as her traitorous heart flipped in her middle. “Don’t you dare doubt yourself. She chose you for a reason. She believes in you, and she is  _ right _ to, Percival. Don’t you even dare think about giving up before you’ve even started, or you will face more than just her wrath.” 

Instead of the laugh she intended to inspire, Percy’s eyes snapped to her, the light of realisation bright and considering. “What did she say to you? The Raven Queen, I mean, earlier.” 

Vex swallowed, her gaze tracing the line of his teeth as they pressed down on the swell of his lip, the expectant blue of his eyes. “I don’t know what you mean,” she told him, feeling something flutter guiltily on her mouth.

Percy shook his head. “She spoke to you too, back there. I saw you conversing. You were crying,” he said. She glanced down at his side to see fists clenched into white knuckles. 

“Oh, that?” she said, to dispel his sudden anger. “Just some advice between women on how to live, where to spend a relaxing holiday,” she said cheekily and he rolled his eyes, an exasperated groan rumbling deep in his throat.

“Do you honestly think that I’d be happy with that explanation?” Percy said, but there was nothing hostile or accusatory in his expression. Just genuine if hungry curiosity, and a huff of wry amusement to replace his draining anger. 

“Yours wasn’t any better. At least with mine, maybe you just have to come back quickly to find out,” she replied with a wink. 

The momentary stretch of amusement on Percy’s mouth could be mistaken for beaming. But his bad mood resettled under his skin and turned it sickly, eyes ageing rapidly with worry and pain.

“It might take me years to return,” he reminded her. “Decades, maybe. I might have forgotten all about it by then.”

Vex shook her head, equally grave. “No you won’t. I know you well, remember?”

“So you do,” Percy allowed with a dip of his head, the motion exposing raw shame that had permanently etched into the bones and muscle along his shoulders. 

Filling up with compassion, she reached out to cradle his jaw’s hinge. He pressed his cheek into her palm, expression recalcitrant despite his apparent need for the comfort she offered him. His eyes slid closed, and his throat worked around a swallow. 

His hand then dug into his pocket and drew something out. 

“Believe me when I say that this might be the only way I remember you,” he said, voice thick and wet as he pressed something hot and metallic into her hand. His body shifted closer, a sudden solid presence, from the breadth of his shoulders to the stubble starting to line his jaw. His eyes were very blue and very sad. “If I forget. Which I severely hope I don’t. Take care, dear.”

“Of course I will,” she said, her thumb pressing the curve of his lip without her command. “I always do. If only you do the same. We need more good people in this world doing good things. And I’d hate to hear that you were that good man who fell too soon.” 

Percy jerked forward, suddenly full and heavy in her space, and her heart leapt. 

Around her startled gasp his lips found her cheek. After the first few stunned moments, she felt them quiver.

“I thank you, Vex’ahlia. Just- Thank you. You have saved me in ways you can’t even imagine,” he said, mouth lingering along the hollow under her cheekbone; a direct line down to the corner of her mouth. 

“Thank  _ you _ for saving me,” she whispered back. “I can’t even begin to describe… You can’t know what it means… I, Percy-”

He shushed the sudden hiccups that robbed her of her breath, and she desperately cursed her sudden inability to tell him exactly all the ways he meant to her. But then that would make this whole goodbye so much harder.

If only he would move down more to meet her tilting mouth, then she wouldn’t have to worry about all the things she was too dumbstruck to say. 

His hand squeezed hers tighter, and in the tiny space between them, he said, “If I am a good person, it is only because you have been the better one. The best one. I wish I could tell you all the ways you have… yes. You have stripped all my armour from me. Whatever I am, whatever I have left outside of the de Rolo name and Whitestone… well. Maybe I’ll be able to write it all down for you to read one day.”

“Maybe I won’t have to,” Vex said, desperate all of a sudden, opening her eyes to whisper against his nose. “If you stayed and told me.” 

She hated how hopeful she sounded, how her voice shook, and a sob hitched free like a traitorous secret. Percy’s eyes closed again and she stared, helpless, at the dark arch of eyelashes before her. 

“I wish, more than anything, that I could.”

He pulled away and the absence was like a laceration, patches of her skin torn away in clumps, stretched by miles. The opportunity lost. She immediately slammed her own eyes shut again to encase herself in shallow black comfort, wrapped her arms around her waist to hug warmth closely. 

She could almost pretend that he didn’t mean it; the better to deceive her breaking heart. 

The better to forget the wounded sound he’d formed just as she stepped back too. The kind that erupts out like lava, like a child’s grief; like a dying dog.

She opened her eyes, and he was Percival once more.

“Goodbye, Vex.”   
  
“Goodbye. Percy.”

They stared and, wordless, reached out to clasp hands for one last time.

The portal behind him pulsed in time with her heart, it and twilight painting the budding wild garlic in lilacs and oranges, stretching around and beyond them as if in waves; the sea sighing around its blackened foam turned copper.

* * *

End of Part Four  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. RL has finally given me a break, and I'm free for a short time, enough to give you this, and thank everyone for waiting so patiently. This was the hardest chapter to write for me, and for that I appreciate it and love aspects of it in so many ways despite its faults. I might go into detail as to why in an author's note, but I feel that this final product feels right, and am satisfied with its projection.
> 
> Many thanks again to my DnD group, my constant source of inspiration and support, their input and suggestions and killer one lines, and who are all wonderful people beyond anything I could have ever hoped for. 
> 
> Again, comment, kudos, or bookmarks are very much appreciated!


	5. Part Five: Various, and Beyond

She returned home alone.

Everyone else had already arrived, which wasn’t surprising since she took the long way back, and then some several miles more. Once she past the door Trinket immediately set upon her. He licked her face and hands and snuffled into her hair, almost possessive in his desperate out-pouring of bustling fur and love.

Vax was quieter, nudged Trinket away and crushed her personal space with a full bodied hug, nose firm against the skin behind her ear, hands stroking her hair. 

“Hey, Stubby,” he whispered.

“Hello, Darling,” she said as she kissed his bruised temple. 

When Vax released her Shaun swept her up into a rib-crushing embrace, his rings digging into her skin. Her feet hung several inches off the air, and she let herself cry a little into his shoulder as he healed her lingering scratches, (her blistered becoming heavy scars shaped like a black spider web) and ordered Vax to make her blackcurrant tea. When they sat down, Vex told them nearly everything that happened with the Raven Queen and Percy’s deal to her. Shaun then burned the scroll in the fireplace without opening it again, the firelight painting determined angles on his face. 

That night there was a flurry of blankets spread over patchy floor and tea and fire being made, and they all bundled into a pile in the living room falling into exhausted sleep, curled together like children and clutching at each other as if afraid someone would disappear. Vax’s face was relaxed in sleep, lines sharp and angled towards Shaun’s more open, relaxed planes as he quietly snored. 

Their hands were clasped together and resting on Vax’s chest, ready to face sleep tied to each other as they were in the real world. Vax’s other arm was around Vex’s shoulder, and she snuggled down to enjoy his easy comfort while she loosely held her mother’s sash that joined her to Shaun’s wrist. Trinket lay at the end of their sprawl, fur warming their feet as he snorted harshly into the worn rug. Sleep was uneasy, and each would be woken in the night by dreams and subconscious memory horrifying their tired minds. 

It would take a while to heal, Vex realised when she woke at three in the morning and longed for bread and cheese to appease a growling stomach. However, as long as they did it together, they’d be ok. 

As it turned out, Vax had other plans. 

When she returned from a morning’s visit to Mother’s Oasis to collect a week’s worth of watercress, she found two open bags stuffed with Vax’s clothes and various small possessions on the kitchen table. 

Vax was in his room sorting out some of his shirts, his daggers laid out on the bedspread. Shaun was absent, which might make the following conversation she would have with Vax all the easier.

“You're leaving for Emon,” She said to Vax’s back as she crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame. Her sigh was heavy with resigned acceptance, with how unsurprised she was. 

Vax stilled. His shoulders bunched up defensively, then dropped. His hand came up to worry at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I… Yeah. Do you hate me for it?” he said, apprehensive, which made Vex hurt as yet another bruise pulped around her heart.

“No. No, not at all,” she said ruefully. 

Vax whirled to face her, words tripping over his mouth as if in a rush to explain himself. “I can't stay in this house anymore. I just - there's a whole world out there, and this house - There's too much. It's too much. We're overlapping and getting in each other’s way and I don’t know how long we can keep doing this without -”

She shushed him, practically tearing across the room to yank him into her arms. “It’s ok brother, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she told him reassuringly, rubbing her hand up and down his back like their mother did whenever Vax got upset as a child.

“I love you. I don’t want to leave you,” he told her wretchedly in her shoulder, anchoring himself to her embrace. He started crying, and she knew he was only saying all this to convince himself. That if he didn't he'd stay, for her, and then he’d never move on from the house or from their mother’s ghost. She wished she didn’t feel so relieved that he was making the first step, and so terribly sad at the same time. They end up hugging for a long while, even through the opening and closing of the front door and Shaun rummaging around in the kitchen to get lunch for Trinket. 

Over sandwiches, where Vex picked off the crust for Trinket to eat and Vax moodily fiddled with the napkins, Shaun asked, “What was she like? The Raven Queen?”

“Oh, her? Some crazy old bag who found the perfect moisturiser,” Vex deflected. “Kind. Merciless. A better haggler than me.”

“She can't be all bad. She brought you back,” Vax said, surprisingly defensive. He lifted his head to look at her for the first time since he cried in her arms. 

“Yes well, I wouldn’t trust her. Seems a bit too cooped up in that Thicket for my tastes,” she joked. 

Vax snorted and rolled his eyes. “Goddesses can come and go as they please. How can she be trapped there?”

“That is a mystery,” she said nonchalantly. She pushed her chair back and lifted her empty plate, saying to them, “But even Gods must want to be free too. The only difference between them and mortals, I suppose, it that they have enough power to help themselves find the right path.”

“You make it sound like they’re alone,” Vax said at the table, studying her thoughtfully. “They have disciples. Clerics and Paladins dedicated to their cause, who believe in them and everything they stand for. Surely they all work together to discover all the paths to harmony and justice? They're admirable people, in that regard.”

“She seemed lonely,” Vex said, low, and with her back turned to them as she washed all their plates. 

Silence fell at the table, and she felt eyes bore into her back. She barely managed to rearrange her face into a happy smile before Vax stepped up to grab her soapy hand.

“Come on,” he told her, then dragged her to their front door, ignoring her confusion and string of, “What, what, Vax, what the hell?”

Shaun laughed, getting up himself to trail, amused, after them with a mug of tea in his hand. 

Vax let go of her hand to grasp her shoulders as they both squeezed into the frame and then out to descend the porch steps until they stood on the last one. 

“On the count of three, we’re going to step down this threshold, and make our own destiny together. Does that sound ok?” He said to her. 

She stared out onto the large spread of pansies and grass and the blue sky, felt the warm air wash over her as cicadas erupted into their excited frenzy.

“Yeah. Yeah let’s do this,” she said, unable to squash her own anticipation. She reached up to lace her hand with the one that was resting on her shoulder. 

Together, they hopped off that last step and landed on the grass

“There,” he said, and she added, breathless and grinning widely at him, “We’re free.”

“Congratulations,” Shaun said behind them with a roguish smile, casual against the doorframe. “Now. Where’s the party?” 

The rest of lunch was far more pleasant, even when Vax and Shaun announced they’d be leaving that very day so they could alert Shaun’s friend Allura of the Thicket’s situation as quickly as possible. 

“Please visit. Whenever you want, you don’t even need to send a letter and I’ll take you in in a heartbeat,” Gilmore said once their bags were all packed, handsome as ever and smiling sadly at her. Vax was saying his own goodbye into Trinket’s fur, who was moaning mournfully.

She gave him the biggest kiss on the cheek and crushed him into her tightest hug, saying, “Of course I will, darling. Take care of each other.”

“We will,” Vax said as tears silently rolled down to drip off his chin. “So long as you take care of yourself.”

“I’m free,” she said with a wink, bottom of her palm swiping at her own wet face. “I have all the time in the world to do that.”

They left hand in hand, flushed and barely able to keep their eyes off each other long enough to watch where they were going.

The house then plunged once again into evening’s glow the colour of burnt gold. When that time came Vex did the chores as she normally did. She locked the door; sweeped the floor absent of Vax and Gilmore’s bags; washed the dishes and wine glass that held the farewell meal; rearranged the cushions and blankets; fussed over Trinket’s bath time; and prepared herself for bed after raking a poker through the coals and ash lining the bottom of the fireplace. She had lived in a quiet house before when Vax had run errands, she could do it again. 

As she wrapped herself in her mother’s shawl, the weight making her sleep shirt cling comfortably to her frame, she gave herself a satisfied nod as she looked around her house. 

Vax and Gilmore had properly tidied the place up when they packed, and now it appeared a little more homely and less mismatched from their scavenging attempts for weapon material. Some floorboards were still missing, as were chairs and cutlery and other metals that were essential to the mainframe of the house, but she didn’t mind too much. It was now fit for one person and her bear, and once she had spent considerable time fixing the place up and throwing away some of her mother’s things, she was confident that it would become truly hers. She could make a home here, properly, just like she when she was a child, and wouldn’t be left wanting. 

She would make sure of it. It was a new beginning that she choose for herself.   


However, as she looked at her home, and pondered over her choices and the list of promises she had made and remade in the hidden folds of Mother’s Oasis, one thought swam to the forefront and demanded her attention. 

I’m not ready for these axioms to fixate me on this rusted ruin.

She went to bed severely unsettled, and telling herself that she’d get over it soon enough. 

* * *

Four days after Vax and Gilmore’s departure, on the threshold of a tavern full of wild music, free flowing ale, and a cacophonous joy running through the air like gold veins in a mountain, Vex had good news for the first time since her whole adventure started.

“So they found then? Everyone’s back?” she asked a delighted Charlotte. 

“Yes. They’re all back. Iris, Cassandra, Billy, they’re all here. Isn’t it wonderful?” Charlotte gushed, warm hands grasping and fumbling over Vex’s own hand. 

“That’s fantastic news,” Vex said, sighing with her own relief while Iris ran shrieking over to hug her around the waist, father trailing close behind. “I’m glad things can finally return to normal around here, I might just have to come back more often to enjoy the happy atmosphere and free booze.”

They both beamed at her, while Iris offered her hand for a high five. Vex, laughing, slapped her hand to the tiny palm and kissed both Charlotte and Arthur on the cheek. 

Out of the corner of her eye, tucked away even from the bar and Charlotte’s mother’s ever watchful eye, the pair’s fingers interlaced and gripped tight as palm kissed palm. 

She sent Charlotte a saucy wink. The girl flushed pink yet lifted her chin high to return her own conspiratorial smirk. 

“Take care of each other,” she told them. 

“Thanks to everything you done for us, for the town? It's the least we can do,” Charlotte said, before stating quite loudly that Vex was welcome to stay in the inn whenever she wanted, free of charge. There was an answering cheer from the place, echoing against the walls and rattling the tankards. 

Vex, unused to being considered a hero in anyone's eyes other than Trinket's, had to hide her own blushing face in the shadows of the tavern before making her escape into outside’s cooling air, whispering farewells into Charlotte’s ear and presenting Iris with a pressed bluebell glass pendant. 

She was completely sober, and therefore unable to explain away her compulsion to visit the Ivyheart Thicket. With Trinket by her side her steps were sure as she made the now familiar trek through hills and grassland until eventually she was passing thin trunks and fallen logs congested with ivy. It was tranquil here now that evening was descending, but the chitter of squirrels and birds, and the creaking growth of branches signalled new life and promise. The wild garlic had unflattened itself and shone happily in the darkening sky even as the bluebells started to wilt and recede into the ground, announcing the arrival of summer with their growing absence. 

Finding the clearing where she first met Percy, she unslung her bow and laid it on the ground in time with her own liquid smooth descent. She sat with her back straight and legs crossed, motioning to Trinket to come sit with her. He hadn’t questioned her visit to the Thicket, yet now he shook his head and nuzzled her neck and cheek before settling down heavily and heaving a relaxed, gusty sigh.

“Was this what you wanted?” She demanded of the Thicket once she had taken several deep breathes and untangled some of the knots in Trinket’s fur, the dried alcohol that had accidentally fallen between his shoulders and down one of his front limbs. “Everything is ok now. It’s like nothing ever happened and yet. And yet I seem to be the one who can’t move forward. I feel like I’ve been left behind, which is just stupid. Everything is so still in the house. Is that you trying to tell me something, Raven Queen?”

She received no answer. The leaves swelled and sighed in waves but no dark figure in feathered robes and black mask appeared. 

She snorted and lifted Trinket’s face in her hands to give him a kiss on the fur above his snout. “You spoke of multiple timelines. Did this happen in all of them, or was this just to fix everything? Were the other timelines so bad that this was preferable? What was the point of Percy saving me, if I’m only to be stuck here? Why do I feel this way when I chose to stay? I love my house. I miss my mother. Why would I want to be anywhere else other than where she was last? Surely, as a dutiful daughter I must honour her memory. I have so many questions...”

She stood up and started to pace. Trinket lifted his head to watch her, concerned even as he made no move to comfort her. 

“I want answers. I want to be able to tear this, this restless feeling out of my heart and throw it away. Sounds bloody maudlin but I don’t know what else to do. How can I be happy out in the world when my happiest memories were in that house? How can I go knowing that at some point, I turn into whatever we become. A God? Me? How is that even possible? Apart from the obvious.” 

She whirled around and drew out a dagger, watched it glitter as she spat angrily at the ground.

“You cheated,” she snarled, eyes drawn to the place where Percy had vanished from her sight, perhaps forever. “You cheated death, and I have no idea why. What sort of deal did we strike? What monster did we promise our soul to? Death cannot be played with like that. What if all this started because you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling all those fate strings? What kind of god allows that?” she yelled finally, slamming the dagger into a nearby tree. The blade embedded deep to the hilt.

The wind whistled and she still received nothing. However, there was a faint smudge draped over one large root protruding out of the earth like a natural bench.

“What kind of selfish God do I turn out to be?” She said to herself, to her scarred hand. Then she chuckled hollowly as she glanced to the shadow sitting on the root. “You say I accept this fate but... I don’t think I can accept me, after all. They saw me as a hero. If I do turn out to be like you, as that sort of God, will they worship that? I don’t see the point of worshipping a God like that. My brother does, I see it in his eyes. He wants so much to be in a God’s regard. And yet, what God has ever helped me 

“I help myself, and always have; you - _I_ proved that. I don’t want to be that hero because I don’t think I’ve done enough to have been any help to them. I might as well have been useless in that fight with the Briarwoods. I nearly died. What do I have to offer to those people when I can only ever think of myself? Why would anyone ever follow me?” She scrubbed a hand down her face, callouses tracing faint lines starting to wind out of her eyes. “What the hell do I do now?”

Still nothing. The shadow just watched her, gaze considering and achingly familiar. She wondered what Percy would have made of it, what Vax would have done in her place. Instead, she just ached with loneliness, a constant companion that had resided by her side for barely a week now.

Vex sighed. “Some bloody use you turned out to be,” she told the shadow. 

The smudged figure faded and Vex, exhausted from her sudden catharsis, collapsed back to the grass and stroked Trinket’s ears with trembling hands. “What about you, Trinket? What’s your opinion? What the hell am I going to do?” 

Trinket studied her with his big brown eyes. Then he looked over to the swinging chains still stuck fast to the branches, the two spike fallen flat on the ground, and gave a derisive snort before snuggling against her side. The paw he placed on her thigh was possessive, and he gave her a short nod as if to say, “We stick together. Always. It’ll be enough.” 

“That’s what I thought, you clever bear,” she said with a kiss to his nose, sighing again. Expression suddenly sad, for her she realised, Trinket licked her face and pressed closer. Vex just let her head fall back, and sighed her frustration out into the scents of bark and wild garlic, Trinket’s fur and the pull of night’s chill. 

* * *

Her frustration hadn’t abated when she and Trinket returned home the next day. 

She left Trinket to his food and restarted her pacing in the living like a demented old woman. Which she supposed she was going to be soon if she stayed in this house for ten plus years. Her heart felt a little too full and beat too hard when she thought of that. It was alright to think of living in her house on a long term basis. But over ten years? She shuddered, then flung herself onto the sofa. The cushions and blankets had been given a thorough washing, and smelled like lavender, as if Percy had never been there.

With her head resting on the arm, she was in prime position to spot a growing mould patch on the ceiling, noticeable, and of a similar size to Trinket’s paw.

She winced, embarrassment creeping into her chest as she thought of Percy looking up in the middle of the night and seeing this stain between the rafters. It was a ridiculous feeling. Of all the things to judge and feel embarrassed about in her home, even after they stripped it for materials, she was mortified about mould. Her laughter when it came was deep in her throat and spilled warmth into her stomach. 

Until today and her perhaps ill-advised trip into the Thicket, she hadn’t really thought about Percy. She had disallowed her thoughts to follow that rabbit warren, mindful of how it had worked out for her mother. But now she let herself go a bit. Vex was not her mother, and it wouldn’t do to hold onto that particular ghost in such a personal matter as mourning a friend.

If she could ever call Percy a friend. God how she wanted to. But that warmth in her stomach, still trembling with her bemused humour, told her otherwise. 

With an arm coming up to work a hand under her head, bathed in firelight and Trinket’s snores, Vex reflected on each encounter she had had with Percy. She drowned in half remembered conversations and crystal sharp images, marvelling over how every scene she examined had a romantic tinge to them, surrendering herself completely to something she had so avidly denied herself. Rosy glass in her mind’s eye obscured Percy’s smile, the callouses of his thumb around an arrow, the warmth of his arms around her as she gasped for air, the greedy drag of his lips.

She sighed, unable to name the emotion accompanying her thoughts. There was potential there, potential for axioms to extend themselves through and around the boundaries of friendship that she would have, in time, accepted gladly. In the private spaces of her head where such knowledge was permitted to play she was sure, now, that Percy had felt the same way. 

How easily she could have fallen into him and dragged herself to ruin, until she was left an empty shell in an even emptier home. All for the rosy warmth of love’s first touch, a second chance to escape a home that wasn’t a true home.

Vex always thought that her and Vax finally leaving Syngorn to find their mother was their second chance. That second chances were limited. That you only got one chance to reinvent yourself and live your second life without shame. In her heart of hearts, where even her brother couldn't reach, but where a tiny bear cub could, Vex thought that if she had only one second chance to choose from she would have chosen Percy. Even, she thinks, sickened, if it meant that she'd have to spend the rest of her life in Syngorn until she found him. Because she knew, now, that Percy would have loved her too. If not the same way as Gilmore for Vax, but at least with the same intensity. And she would have been helpless to stop him.

Even with these thoughts swirling around her head she wasn't entirely sure about what she wanted. Though time had pressed into her breast and soothed the ache away, of the lingering fear of forests and shadows, of men who would steal her heart and lock it away forever if she wasn’t careful, she was still halfway across the threshold of her own mind. For her, there were two decisions and she was straddling the line between both. 

She hated that the family house (her mother’s home, her childhood’s safe place that she was so desperate to return to while in Syngorn) had become her own monstrous beast waiting to be mentally vanquished with nothing less than her own bravery. Her various times in the Thicket had finally confronted that reality to her. Just as the Thicket had been polluted by Orthax and the Briarwoods, so had the house been tainted by her own indecision and toxic reliance on ghosts making everything better as long as you remembered their goodness and not the pain dwelling in your own heart. Vex had always wanted to rely on her head and never with her heart. Yet, it was all in vain because in every case, in every decision she had ever made, her heart won out. Using her head and her smarts was always desirable but she didn’t think that dying without having let her heart live through its own mistakes was preferable. 

It didn’t do to be reckless in this dangerous world. 

But then again; Vex didn’t want to be careful.

She watched another sunset sink and turned the sky an orange and purple chiaroscuro, filter through the ivy covered windows to illuminate the room, enveloping her old house grown shrunken and quiet, as if lamenting its sudden empty space. It was a beautiful colour that she wished she could see standing on top of a mountain, or in the middle of a bustling city.

As the room plunged into darkness, she told herself that she'd never find out the answers to her questions, or about the world, or about how to live in the line between head and heart, unless she started looking.

* * *

The house was locked tight, curtains drawn over the windows as the whole structure seemed to settled comfortably into cold retreat, into its new destiny of abandoned peace under the shroud of ivy’s grip.

Vex was in her best travel gear and weighed down by food provisions, clothes and sparse treasures, feathers shining in her hair. The large key Percy gave to her as a farewell present swinging against her throat from a cord. She held out the strip of Percy’s shirt (the one not coated by blood) for Trinket to sniff. 

He snorted, rumbled, before setting off with great, lumbering strides. 

“Come on, buddy. Let's go after him, just you and me. I want to see the ocean,” she breathed before she rushed after Trinket. Her braid bounced off her shoulders, bow fitted tight against her back, feet sure and swift as they pounded on the grass. 

The morning sun had burned the lingering morning mist away and the plain was sharp with ozone and dew, tumbling away as both she and Trinket broke into a full sprint. They laughed and roared at the hazy blue sky that spread endless but would soon taper to the point where they were needed, where they needed to be. First, towards the grey heart of Whitestone where its stones sang of adventure and undiscovered triumph, and then further out into the wide, wide world. To places she had only dreamed of; food she wanted to eat; people to laugh with, defend with her might and quick fingers; and to fall in love all over again.

And if she happened to run into Percy far in the future, well, she was looking forward to that adventure too. 

After all; Vex was sick of waiting and staying in one space.

It was her time to live.  

* * *

 

Fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my [Tumblr](http://bilsunderooks.tumblr.com/) for my writing inspiration tag. My inbox is always open for a chat!


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